: 


/rent  en  in. 


FBONTENAC 


OR 


3ltatarjjfl  of  tlje 


A  METRICAL  ROMANCE 


BY  ALFRED  B.  STREET. 


From  Eentley's  London  Edition. 


NEW    YORK: 
BAKER    AND    SCRIBNER, 

145   NASSAU   STREET   AND  36   PARK  ROW. 

1849. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1949,  by 
BAKER     AND    SCRIBNER. 

In  fho  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


Printed  by 
C .    W  .    BENEDICT, 

501  William  street. 


PREFACE. 


OUR  tale  is  based  upon  the  following  chapter  of  history  :  — 
Tn  the  month  of  June,  1696,  Count  Frontenac,  then  Gev- 
ernor-General  of  Canada,  assembled  an  army  at  Lachine,  a 
few  miles  from  Montreal,  for  an  expedition  against  the 
Iroquois,  who,  from  the  earliest  settlement  of  the  province, 
had  been  inimical  to  the  French. 


The  army  consisted  of  the  regular  troops,  the 
or  militia  of  the  province,  and  some  of  the  Indian  tribes, 
who  were  the  allies  of  the  French,  and  who  entertained  an 
hereditary  hatred  against  the  Iroquois,  by  reason  of  their 
nations  having,  in  former  times,  been  conquered  by  the 
Confederacy.  Frontenac,  with  this  army,  ascended  the 
St.  Lawrence,  in  batteaux  and  canoes,  carrying  with  him, 
in  addition  to  light  arms,  cannon,  mortars,  and  grenades. 
Making  the  customary  portages,  he  reached  Lake  Ontario 

M534G8G 


VI  PREFACE. 

coasted  its  eastern  waters,  ascended  the  Oswego  River, 
crossed  Onondaga  Lake,  and  encamped  upon  its  bor 
ders.  He  then  plunged,  with  his  forces,  into  the  vast 
wilderness,  in  search  of  the  Iroquois.  Arriving  at  the 
principal  castle  or  village  of  the  Onondagas,  into  whose 
particular  canton  or  country  he  had  penetrated,  he  found 
it  deserted.  Pushing  farther  then  into  the  wilderness, 
Frontenac  discovered  nothing  of  his  wild  enemies,  and 
filially,  in  disappointment,  he  retraced  his  march.  On 
his  return  path,  however,  the  Iroquois  waylaid  his  steps, 
killed  a  number  of  his  men,  and  did  not  cease  their 
attacks  until  he  had  entirely  left  their  territory. 

The  Iroquois  at  that  time  consisted  of  five  nations,  viz.: 
the  Mohawks,  Oneidas,  Cayugas,  Onondagas,  and  Senecas, 
occupying  a  territory  which  they  figuratively  called  their 
"  Long  House,"  extending  from  east  to  west  over  what  is 
now  the  State  of  New  York,  from  the  Lakes  Erie  and 
Ontario  to  the  Hudson  River. 

These  Indian  nations-  had  banded  themselves  into  a 
League  or  Confederacy,  at  first  for  protection  against  their 
common  enemies,  continuing  it  afterwards  for  conquest. 
The  time  of  the  formation  of  this  League  is  not  known, 


PREFACE.  Vll 

but  is  supposed  to  have  been  ages  before  the  white  man 
appeared  amongst  them,  and  it  has  given  birth,  on  account 
of  its  value  and  importance,  as  well  as  its  being  involved 
in  the  mist  of  uncertainty,  to  a  wild  mythology  con 
cerning  it  amongst  ihemselves. 

When  Champlain  first  came  to  Quebec,  he  found  the 
Confederacy  at  war  with  the  Hurons  and  Adirondacks, 
then  warlike  and  powerful  nations.  Having  allied  himself 
to  the  Adirondacks,  he  joined  them  in  an  expedition 
against  the  Iroquois ;  and,  by  reason  of  the  fire-arms  he 
carried,  then  totally  unknown  to  the  warriors  of  the 
Confederacy,  he  was  the  means  of  defeating  the  latter 
on  the  borders  of  the  very  lake  which  now  bears  his  name. 
This  kindled  an  animosity  against  the  French  on  the  part  of 
the  Iroquois,  which  was  never  forgotten.  Receiving,  a  few 
years  afterwards,  fire-arms  in  their  turn  from  the  Dutch, 
who,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  penetrated  the  forests  along 
the  Hudson  and  Mohawk  Rivers  in  New  York,  the  con 
federated  warriors  commenced  their  attacks  upon  the 
French  at  every  post  and  settlement.  So  serious  did  their 
inroads  become,  that  at  times  the  very  province  itself  was 
in  jeopardy.  And  not  only  did  these  warlike  savages  annoy 
the  French,  but  they  turned  their  arms  against  all  the  neigh- 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

boring  tribes,  driving  the  Hurons  and  Adirondacks,  their 
former  rivals,  from  their  villages  and  hunting-grounds,  and 
absolutely  exterminating  many  of  the  savage  nations  around 
them.  Pushing  their  conquests  in  all  directions,  they  at 
length  mastered  every  Indian  tribe  residing,  not  only  in 
New  York,  but  every  other,  as  far  as  Carolina  to  the 
south,  and  the  Mississippi  to  the  west.  The  Governors- 
General  of  Canada  made  frequent  incursions  into  their 
territory  or  Long  House,  but  those  incursions  only  served 
to  stimulate  the  wrath  of  these  haughty  and  powerful 
savages,  without  weakening  their  strength  or  diminishing 
their  power.  That  strength  and  power  had  arrived  at 
their  height  when  Frontenac  took  the  reins  of  command 
for  the  second  time,  in  1689.  The  Iroquois  had  now 
assumed  so  threatening  an  attitude,  that  this  stern  and 
proud  noble  thought  it  advisable  to  penetrate  their  fast 
nesses  and  crush  them,  if  possible,  at  a  blow.  Hence 
the  expedition  above  detailed,  which  was,  however,  as 
fruitless  as  those  of  the  former  Governors-General  De  La 
Barre  and  De  Nonville. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  Confederacy  (its  good-will  and 
friendship  having  been  transferred  by  the  Dutch  to  the 
English)  proved  itself  as  faithful  to  Corlear,  the  name  it 


PREFACE.  IX 

gave  to  the  English  Governor,  as  hostile  to  Yon-non-de-yoh, 
its  title  for  the  Governor-General  of  the  French.  Con 
sequently,  in  1776,  when  the  war  of  the  Revolution 
broke  out,  true  to  their  old  friendship,  the  Iroquois  sided 
with  England.  This  led  to  the  expedition  of  Sullivan,  the 
American  General,  into  the  heart  of  their  country.  Sul 
livan  desolated  their  fields,  destroyed  their  villages,  and 
exterminated  the  warriors  they  brought  against  him.  From 
this  period  they  began  to  decline.  With  the  return 
of  peace,  civilization  commenced  hewing  down  their 
forests,  and  taking  possession  of  their  hunting-grounds; 
and  the  unwelcome  sight  of  the  Pale-face  met  them  in 
every  direction  beside  their  beautiful  streams  and  romantic 
lakes.  Their  Long  House,  to  use  their  own  pathetic 
language,  was  broken  open  at  both  ends,  and  the  storms 
of  destruction  made  it  desolate  for  ever.  The  Mohawks 
abandoned  their  lovely  valley  in  a  body,  and  settled  upon 
Grand  River,  in  Canada,  on  territory  granted  them  by 
the  British  Government.  The  rest  of  the  Confederacy, 
although  it  had  been  previously  increased  by  the  accession 
of  the  Tuscaroras,  a  reclaimed  original  tribe,  gradually 
diminished,  and  has  still  continued  to  waste  away,  until 
now  only  a  few  individuals  remain,  haunting  their  smiling 
valleys,  and  hovering  around  their  sparkling  waters,  mis 
erable  spectres  of  the  former  greatness  of  the  Iroquois- 
1* 


X  PREFACE. 

A  few  more  years,  and  even  they  will  disappear.  The 
memory  of  the  Confederacy  only  will  remain  to  furnish 
fit  therne  for  song  and  story,  and  one  more  melancholy 
instance  of  a  once  powerful  and  happy  people  entirely  dis 
appearing  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 


CONTENTS. 


CANTO  FIE  ST. 

LUCILLE  -  FRONTENAC  .  .        '"",  "\  •***     .  .  .'  .  1 

CANTO  SECOND. 

THE     IROQUOIS  -  THE     CANADIAN    SPRING  -  THE    PEACE      BELT  - 
ON-ON-DAH-GAH  -  THE  ATOTARHO  -  JISKOKO  -  THE  MESSAGE 

-  QUEBEC  -  THE    CALUMET  -  THE    TALK         ....          23 

CANTO  THIRD. 

THE    WAR    SONG  -  THE    HUNTERS  -  THE    BATTEAU  -  THE     CARIG- 

NAN    VILLAGE  -  THE    BRIGANTINE  .....          61 

CANTO  FOURTH. 

THE    THANKSGIVING    DANCE  -  THE  DANCE  OF    THE  GREAT  SPIRIT 

-  KAH-KAH  -  THE      EXPEDITION  -  THE     BIVOUAC  -  THE      AB 
DUCTION  -  THE    RESCUE    AND    DEATH     .....          89 

CANTO  FIFTH. 

THE    INN    OF     THE     CANOE  -  WE-AN-DAH  -  THE     SUMMONS  -  THE 

ENCAMPMENT  -  THE    MARCH  ......       125 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CANTO  SIXTH. 

THE   WAR-HATCHET — THE    WILDERNESS — THE   CATARACT — THE 

SENEGAS — A-GA-YEN-TEH CAYUGA    LAKE — THE    CAYUGAS 

THE    ONEIDAS THE     STRAWBERRY     DANCE THE     CANOE 

VOYAGE — THE    MOHAWKS5    SCALP   DANCE      ....       153 

CANTO  SEVENTH. 

THE    MARCH THE    WAR-DANCE THE  COUNCIL THE  QUARREL 

— THE   PRIESTESS — THE    SACRED   FLAME        ....       189 

CANTO  EIGHTH. 

THE     MARCH — THE     MEETING — THE     MARCH — THE     MOCCASIN- 
PRINT — THE    NIGHT-WATCH 227 

CANTO  NINTH. 

THE    BATTLE — THE     TORTURE — THE     DEFIANCE — THE     DEATH — 

FRONTENAC MASS    FOR    THE    DEAD  ,       255 


CANTO  FIRST. 


LUCILLE, 
FRONTENAC. 


CANTO   FIRST. 


LUCILLE 


T\vas  in  June's  bright  and  glowing  prime 
The  loveliest  of  the  summer  time. 
The  laurels  were  one  splendid  sheet 

Of  crowded  blossom  everywhere  ; 
The  locust's  clustered  pearl  was  sweet, 

And  the  tall  whitewood  made  the  air 
Delicious  with  the  fragrance  shed 
From  the  gold  flowers  all  o'er  it  spread. 

n. 

In  the  rich  pomp  of  dying  day 

Quebec,  the  rock-throned  monarch,  glowed- 
Castle  and  spire  and  dwelling  gray 
The  batteries  rude  that  niched  their  way 
Along  the  cliff,  beneath  the  play 
Of  the  deep  yellow  light,  were  gay, 
And  the  curved  flood,  below  that  lay, 

In  flashing  glory  flowed  ; 


FRONTENAC. 

Beyond,  the  sweet  and  mellow  smile 
Beamed  upon  Orleans'  lovely  isle  ; 

Until  the  downward  view 
Waa  closed  by  mountain-tops  that,  reared 
Against  the  burnished  sky,  appeared 

In  misty  dreamy  hue. 

in. 

West  of  Quebec's  embankments  rose 
The  forests  in  their  wild  repose. 
Between  the  trunks,  the  radiance  slim 

Here  came  with  slant  and  quivering  blaze 
Whilst  there,  in  leaf-wreathed  arbors  dim, 

Was  gathering  gray  the  twilight's  haze. 
Where  cut  the  boughs  the  back-ground  glow 

That  striped  the  west,  a  glittering  belt, 
The  leaves  transparent  seemed,  as  though 

In  the  rich  radiance  they  would  melt. 

IV. 

Upon  a  narrow  grassy  glade, 

Where  thickets  stood  in  grouping  shade, 

The  light  streaked  down  in  golden  mist, 

Kindled  the  shrubs,  the  greensward  kissed, 

Until  the  clover-blossoms  white 

Flashed  out  like  spangles  large  and  bright. 

v. 

This  green  and  sun-streaked  glade  was  rife 
With  sights  and  sounds  of  forest  life. 


LUCILLE. 

A  robin  in  a  bush  was  singing, 

A  flicker*  rattled  on  a  tree ; 
In  liquid  fife-like  tones  round  ringing 

A  thrasherf  piped  its  melody  ; 
Crouching  and  leaping  with  pointed  ear 

From  thicket  to  thicket  a  rabbit  sped, 
And  on  the  short  delicate  grass  a  deer 

Lashing  the  insects  from  off  him,  fed. 


VI. 

Sudden  he  paused  with  lifted  foot, 
Then,  like  an  arrow,  away  he  shot ; 

Robin  and  flicker  and  thrasher  were  mute  ; 
The  rabbit  glided  from  the  spot — 

The  next  an  Indian,  from  the  shade, 

Came  bounding  out  upon  the  glade. 


VII. 

A  warrior  was  he,  armed  for  strife, 
With  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife 

Thrust  through  his  wampum-belt ; 
The  long  lock  crowned  his  shaven  head  ; 
Bare,  save  the  belt,  his  form  of  red, 
And  where  around  his  loins  was  spread 

A  stripe  of  shaggy  felt. 


'Flicker  is  the  common  name  for  the   Golden-winged  Woodpecker  of  the 
American  forests, 
t  The  Thrasher  is  the  brown  thrush  of  the  American  woods. 


FRONTENAC. 


VIII. 


With  head  aside  he  stood  intent 
An  instant,  then  he  stooped  and  bent 

His  ear  upon  the  ground  ; 
Then  looking  forth  with  piercing  eye, 
Entered  a  laurel  thicket  nigh 
So  subtly,  to  the  breeze's  sigh 

More  motion  'twould  have  found. 


IX. 

Silence  fell  deeply  down  once  more, 

Till  fluttering  sounds  among  the  trees 
Told  that  the  woodland  fright  was  o'er 

And  soon  would  swell  fresh  harmonies. 
The  robin's  warble  was  renewed, 

The  flicker's  hammer  tapped  again, 
And  once  more  through  the  solitude 

Rang  out  the  thrasher's  splendid  strain  ; 
But  the  sweet  sounds  had  scarcely  filled 
The  place,  when  they  again  were  stilled. 
On  the  green  glade  two  figures  came  ; 
One  of  a  tall  and  stalwart  frame, 
With  sword  and  plume  and  martial  air  ; 

The  other  scarce  four  summers  old, 
Whose  coal-black  eyes  and  raven  hair 

And  features — though  of  loveliest  mould, 
O'er-tinted  with  a  light  red  shade, 
Blood  of  the  native  race  betrayed. 


LUCILLE. 


X. 

The  soldier,  on  the  grass  reclined, 

Viewed  the  glad  gambols  of  the  child/ 
Who,  to  each  impulse  of  her  mind, 

Now,  gave  her  shout  of  pleasure  wild, 
As  the  rich  red-bird  in  his  flight 
Passed  with  a  flash  some  streak  of  light 

Slanted  in  hazy  sheen  ; 
And  now,  with  footstep  bounding  free, 
Chased  the  fleet  squirrel  to  its  tree, 

Across  the  sylvan  scene. 


XI. 

Tired  with  her  sports,  at  length  the  girl 
Paused  at  the  leaning  soldier's  side, 

Brushed  from  his  brow  a  silvery  curl, 
And  then  her  panting  efforts  plied, 

Until  she  bared  his  glittering  brand, 

And  sought  to  poise  it  in  her  hand. 


XII. 

Closer  the  child  the  senior  drew 

And  with  delight  caressed  her  head  ; 

"  Thou  would'st  have  been  a  soldier  too 
Had'st  thou  been  born  a  boy  ! "  he  said  ; 

"  Thy  sire's  brave  blood  within  thee  glows 

Too  strong  for  peaceful  dull  repose  ; 


FKONTENAC. 

And  the  wild  nature  I  espy 

Of  thy  red  mother  in  thine  eye. 

Listen !     I  '11  tell  the  tale  a«-ain 

O 

I  told  thee  yester-night, 
When  proudly  on- the  battle  plain 

France  stemmed  the  dreadful  fight, 
And  heard  at  last  the  clarion  strain 

Of  victory  crown  her  might ! 
And  then  commenced  the  legend  old  : 

The  girl's  red  features  flushed  more  red, 
Brightened  her  eye  more  wild  and  bold 

As  on  the  story  sped, 
Until  with  sight  that  fairly  blazed, 
The  blade  with  both  her  hands  she  raised 

And  waved  it  o'er  her  head. 


XIII. 

At  the  first  words,  a  thicket's  screen 

Had  moved  behind  the  pair, 
And  then  two  eyeballs  fierce  and  keen 

Like  spots  of  fire  gleamed  there ; 
Out  came  a  scalp-lock — then  a  head — 
Then  was  put  forth  an  arm  of  red, 
And,  like  the  cowering  panther's  tread, 
The  Indian  left  his  lair. 


xiv. 

Stilly,  as  glides  o'er  earth  a  shade 
From  bush  to  bush  along  the-  glade 


LUCILLE. 

The  stealthy  savage  went : 
A  snap,  the  girl  half  turned  ;  his  crouch 
Was  like  the  spider's,  when  a  touch 

Its  filmy  snare  has  rent. 
Then,  rising  from  behind  the  bank 
Where  for  an  instant's  space,  he  sank, 

Again  he  glided  low  ; 
The  tremble  of  the  leaves  and  grass 
Telling  alone  his  snake-like  pass, 

So  viewless,  silent,  slow. 


XV. 

Near  and  more  near,  with  eyes  of  flame, 
The  Indian  creeping,  creeping,  came, 

Until  he  paused  and  drew 
His  hatchet,  then  leaned  quickly  back 
And  from  his  clutch  in  whirling  track 

The  glittering  weapon  flew  ; 
It  fell  upon  the  soldier's  head, 
Who,  as  gushed  out  a  stream  of  red, 
Groaned  deep,  and  started  from  his  bed 

Convulsive  to  his  knee  ; 
In  vain,  in  vain  ;  the  hatchet  drank 
Again  his  blood,  and  down  he  sank 

Beneath  his  enemy. 
And,  as  in  pangs  of  parting  life 

The  quivering  soldier  lay, 
The  savage  drew  his  gleaming  knife 

And  wrenched  the  scalp  away. 


10  FRONTENAO 

XVI. 

The  child,  transfixed  in  mute  surprise, 
Had  viewed  the  scene  with  staring  eyes  ; 
But,  as  the  fearful  Indian  shred 
The  scalp  from  off  that  honored  head, 

Then,  wakened  from  her  trance, 
Lifting  the  weapon,  at  the  foe 
She  leaped,  and  sought  to  aim  her  blow 

With  stern  defying  glance. 

XVII. 

The  savage  gazed  ;  across  his  brow 

A  look  gleamed  proud  and  high  ; 
'Twas  vivid  admiration  now 

That  glittered  in  his  eye  ; 
And  with  a  guttural  of  delight, 
The  child,  again  o'er  whelmed  with  fright, 

But  holding  still  the  blade, 
He  swept  upon  his  stalwart  arm, 
And,  as  she  shrieked  in  wild  alarm, 

Plunged  with  her  in  the  shade, 
Leaving  the  scene  to  its  repose 
In  the  soft  hue  of  twilight's  close. 

XVIIL 

Over  the  glade  the  ladened  bee 
Darted  straight  forward  to  its  tree  ; 
Each  bird  low  twittered  on  its  perch  ; 
The  night-hawk  flew  in  jarring  search  ; 


FRONTENAC.  II 

The  crow  flapped  o'er  with  solemn  croak ; 
The  frog  its  clamorous  piping  woke  ; 
The  wolf  drew  out  his  plaintive  howl ; 
Shouted,  in  pauses  brief,  the  owl  ; 
Her  wail  set  up  the  whippoorwill ; 
The  tree-toad  swelled  its  hollow  trill ; 
The  fire-flies  shed,  in  thickening  flight, 
Their  gold-green  intermittent  light 
Until  the  gray  and  glimmering  haze 
With  fairy  meteors  seemed  ablaze ; 
And  once  another  deer  stepped  out, 
But  as  he  stooped  to  feed,  about 

He  swerved  with  snort  of  dread, 
And  through  the  darkening  forest  waste 
Dashed  far  away  in  frenzied  haste — 

There  lay  the  bloody  dead. 


FRONTENAC. 

XIX. 

Reared  on  the  cliff,  at  the  very  brink, 
Whence  a  pebble  dropped  would  sink 
Four-score  feet  to  the  slope  below, 
The  Castle  of  St.  Louis  caught 
Dancing  hues  of  delicate  pink, 

With  which  the  clouds  o'erhead  were  fraught 
From  the  rich  sunset's  streaming  glow. 


12  FRONTENAC. 

XX. 

Opposite,  in  the  soft  warm  light 
The  Recollets'  steeple  glittered  bright ; 
And  tipped  with  gold  was  the  Convent  by, 
Whilst  both  threw  a  mantle  of  raven  dye 

The  broad  Place  d'Armes  across, 
That  up  to  the  massive  curtain  lay, 
Save  where  a  slanting  and  hazy  ray, 
Shooting  between  the  buildings  gray, 

Streaked  it  with  yellow  gloss ; 
The  bastions  threw  on  the  Castle  court 
Crescents  of  shade,  whilst  the  sallyport 

Open,  was  filled  with  a  golden  glare 
That  made  the  sentinel's  cuirass  glow 
With  transient  flashing,  as  to  and  fro 

Trod  he  monotonous  there. 

XXI. 

Within  a  room  of  the  Castle,  bright 

From  a  ray  of  rich  ruby  light, 

That  caused  great  tremulous  blots  to  fall 

On  raftered  ceiling  and  oaken  wall, 

And  touched  the  weapons  in  nooks  arranged, 

Till  keen  quick  winkings  they  exchanged, 

Frontenac  sat  at  a  massive  desk, 

Carved  all  over  with  shapes  grotesque. 

XXII. 

Around  him  were  splendor  and  rudeness  at  strife, 
Signs  of  the  savage  and  civilized  life. 


FRONTENAC.  13 

Here  branched,  for  some  gay  garment's  use, 
The  broad  flat  antlers  of  the  moose ; 
There,  o'er  some  painting  rich  were  hung 
Wampum  in  varied  colors  strung ; 
Whilst  moccasin  and  blanket  red 
By  corslet  and  steel  pike  were  spread. 

XXIII. 

A  will,  restraint  that  could  not  brook, 

And  pride  that  downward  frowned  on  all, 

Gleamed  in  his  stern  and  haughty  look 
And  breathed  around  his  figure  tall, 

Although  his  bended  eye  and  brow 

Were  fixed  in  anxious  musing  now. 

XXIV. 

The  Iroquois  in  their  dread  and  might 

Stood  frowning  in  his  mental  sight ; 

Onward  and  onward  their  power  had  pressed ; 

Upward  and  upward  had  risen  their  crest ; 

Nought  in  the  woods  now  their  might  could  oppose, 

Nought  could  withstand  their  confederate  blows; 

Banded  in  strength  and  united  in  soul, 

They  moved  on  their  course  with  the  cataract's  roll. 

XXV. 

Wherever  the  banner  of  France  was  reared, 
The  blood  thirsty  hate  of  the  Braves  appeared ; 
Kindled  against  Champlain  when  first 
His  lightning  death  on  their  sires  had  burst, 
Years  had  not  quenched  it,  for  never  depart 
Thoughts  of  revenge  from  the  Indian  heart. 


14  FRONTENAC. 

XXVI. 

Frontenac  long,  with  care,  had  tried 

To  win  their  kindness  to  his  side  ; 

But  the  stern  Nations  in  disdain 

The  proffered  belt  cast  back  again. 

If  he  uttered  wrathful  threat, 

With  a  taunting  scorn  'twas  met : 

And  if  he  sent,  in  a  burst  of  ire, 

A  sudden  foray  of  sword  and  fire, 

Everywhere  up  the  wild  warriors  stood, 

And  rushed  in  fierce  joy  to  their  banquet  of  blood. 

XXVII. 

From  ceiling  and  wall  the  light  vanished  away, 
The  room  now  began  to  grow  dusky  and  gray  ; 
Sculptured  desk  and  high-backed  chair 
Strange  wild  figures  seemed  to  wear ; 
Branching  antlers  round  the  wall 
Seemed  to  wax  more  wide  and  tall ; 
Weapons  in  their  corners  made 
Faint  dull  glimmerings  in  the  shade  : — 
Still  sat  Frontenac  motionless, 
Still  thought's  burthen  seemed  heavy  to  press. 
Hark !  a  sudden  cry !  a  beat 
In  the  court  of  many  feet — 

He  glanced  through  the  casement — amid  a  throng 
Of  soldiers,  a  figure  was  borne  along — 
A  drooping  figure,  the  glimmering  light 
Yielding  the  outlines  alone  to  sight. 


FRONTENAC.  15 

XX  VIII. 

E'en  as  he  looked  the  portal  jarred, 

A  hurried  tap  at  the  door  was  heard, — 
Hastily  entered  a  pallid  guard, 

With  a  soldier's  salute  at  the  bidding  word  ; 
"  That  form — whose  is  it  ? — this  stir  why  made  ?" 

"  The  Sieur  Lavergne's  !  he  is" — 

"  What !  speak !"— "  Dead  !"— 
"  Dead !"— 

— "  Found  by  the  hunter  Bizarre  in  the  glade 

Where  he  used  at  sunset  to  ramble,  with  head 
Showing  the  knife  of  the  Iroquois  wild  !" — 
"  Dead  !  found  in  the  glade  !  but  where  's  my  child  ! 
Lucille  !  my  daughter  !  together  they  left 
The  castle  at  sunset !"     The  father  bereft 
Struggled  with  groans  that  the  soldier  suppressed  ; 
"  Send  the  scouts  quickly  and  bid  them  not  rest 
Till  the  forests  are  scoured  !  let  Count  Lavergne 
Be  brought  in  the  room  !"  The  spirit  stern 
Of  the  warrior  seemed  again  to  sway, 

Whilst  on  the  table  they  placed  the  dead, 

Lighted  the  cresset  swung  overhead, 
Then  hastened  with  soft  falling  footsteps  away. 
Seizing  the  hand  of  his  early  friend, 
Again  did  the  soul  of  proud  Frontenac  bend ; 
He  pressed  that  mangled  and  clotted  head, 
There  were  the  muscles  all  bare  and  red. 
"Those  Iroquois  fiends  !" — he  muttered  low — 
"Lucille,  Lucille,  did  the  murderous  blow 
"  Fall  too  on  thee  !  ho  !  without  there  !  haste  ! 


16  FRONTENAC. 

Let  the  hunter  Bizarre  in  our  presence  be  placed  ! — 
Tell  me,"  as  low  the  rough  woodsman  made 
Obeisance  uncouth,  "  didst  thou  traverse  the  glade  ? 
Was  there  no  other  lying  there  ?" 
"  None!" 

"  Leave  me  !"     No  eye  must  behold  his  despair. 
The  ruthless  stern  Frontenac  bent  o'er  the  dead 
With  a  heart  from  which  all  but  deep  sorrow  was  fled  ; 
That  arm,  cold  and  stiff,  had  once  sheltered  his  life 
In  a  whirlwind  of  bloody  and  desperate  strife  ; 
And  Lucille,  the  loved  child  of  Sa-ha-wee  !*  too  gone ! 
Must  his  winter  of  life  be  left  cheerless  and  lone  ! 
The  Iroquois  !  up  flashed  his  fury  !  he  sprung, 
Clutched  his  sword  until  in  its  steel  scabbard  it  rung ; 
And  on  through  the  room  with  quick  gestures  he  strode, 
As  though  some  fierce  demon  was  plying  his  goad. 

XXIX. 

Scarce  a  fleeting  three  months  glide 

Since  his  murdered  Sa-ha-wee  died, 
Struck  by  the  hand  of  Ta-yo-neef  whilst  seeing, 

(So  her  Iroquois  handmaid  said), 

Seated  upon  Cape  Diamond's  head, 
Slowly  the  beautiful  sunset  fleeing 

From  the  landscape  below  her  spread. 
"  Yon-non-de-yoh's  slave  no  more," 
Hissed  the  fierce  Brave  as  his  hatchet  flashed  o'er — 
"  Die  !"  and  gasping  Sa-ha-wee  fell ; 
Then  pealing  a  bloody  triumphant  yell, 

*  "Sa-ha-wee"  means  "A  Vine"  in  the  On-on-dah-gah  tongue, 
t  "Ta-yo-nee"  means  "  A  Wolf"  in  the  same  tongue. 


FRONTENAC.  17 

And  spurning  the  shrieking  attendant  away, 
Off  bore  the  chieftain  the  lifeless  clay. 
Ta-yo-nee !  her  brother  !  and  could  it  be 
That  he  again  was  the  enemy  ! 
The  On-on-dah-gah  fierce,  whose  hate 

To  the  French  race  had  visited 
The  vengeance  of  such  dreadful  fate 

Upon  a  sister's  head  ! 
And  then  the  thoughts  of  that  sister  stole 
Like  music  o'er  Frontenac's  tortured  soul. 
A  captive  brought  to  the  shores  of  France 

By  noble  De  Tracy  with  her  sire, 
In  his  stern  bosom  her  fawn-like  glance, 

Kindled  at  length  delicious  fire ; 
And  when,  heart-broken,  her  father  died, 
He  wooed  the  red  maiden  to  his  side  ; 
In  his  gray  castle  beside  the  Rhone 
Five  bright  summers  above  them  shone  ; 
Decked  with  his  Sovereign's  trust,  he  bore 
His  d.estinies  then  to  Canada's  shore 
With  Sa-ha-wee  and  little  Lucille ;  and  the  moon 
That  saw  them  drop  anchor,  her  beautiful  boon 
O'er  the  brow  of  the  night  had  ceased  scarcely  to  spread 
E'er  the  blood  of  the  first  was  thus  ruthlessly  shed. 

XXX. 

And  now  too  the  fate  of  Lavergne  !  Lucille 
Torn  from  him  !  his  over-wrought  senses  reel. 
But  hark  !  on  his  ear  a  pealing  swell ; 

The  neighboring  Recollets'  vesper-bell ! 

And  soon,  through  the  open  casement,  song 


18  FRONTKNAC. 

Comes  like  the  blessing  of  peace  along  ; 

Pouring  on  his  heart  like  balm, 

Spreading  a  delicious  calm, 

Hushing  every  thought  of  pain, 

"  Mary  Mother  !"  swelled  the  strain. 

"  Mary  Mother !  from  thy  dwelling 

Look  with  soft  and  smiling  eye  ! 
Us,  thy  humble  suppliants  telling 

Thou  dost  watch  us  from  the  sky. 
Ever  be  thy  presence  near  us  ! 

Ever  o'er  us  be  thy  care  ! 
Mother  of  Him  who  perished  !  hear  us ! 

Mary  Mother,  list  our  prayer. 

j.    ,  "  Honored  above  all,  yet  lowly 

Bend  the  sweetness  of  thy  brow, 

Mary  Mother  !  Virgin  holy  ! 
On  thy  waiting  children  now, 

Let  thy  smile,  sweet  Mother  !  cheer  us  ! 
To  our  souls  thy  blessing  bear  ! 

Mother  of  Him  who  perished !  hear  us ! 

Mary  Mother  !  list  our  prayer." 

/ 

He  glanced  without — the  splendid  moon 
Was  climbing  to  her  gorgeous  noon  ; 
The  massive  church  and  convent  bright 
Reared  their  tall  summits  in  her  light ; 
Whilst  on  the  court  the  castle  laid 
The  sharp  cut  blackness  of  its  shade ; 
The  sentry  still  with  measured  stride 


FRONTENAC.  19 


Passed  and  repassed  the  portal  wide  ; 
All,  all  was  beauty,  light  and  peace, 
He  felt  his  feverish  throbbing  cease. 

"  Mary  Mother  !"  seemed  to  bear 

Still  upon  the  balmy  air  ; 

Now  to  rise  along  the  sky, 

Now  to  tremble  from  on  high ; 

Falling,  swelling,  echoing  round, 

Till  the  moonlight  changed  to  sound ; 

Sound  that  told  of  heaven  above  ; 

Sound  that  told  of  guardian  love  ; 
Off  from  his  bosom  rolled  the  gloom, 

The  wrath,  the  anguish,  the  despair  ; 
And  in  that  still  and  lonely  room 

The  stern  old  soldier  knelt  in  prayer. 


END  OF  CANTO  FIRST. 


CANTO  SECOND. 


THE  IROQUOIS. 

THE  CANADIAN  SPRING. 

THE  PEACE-BELT. 

ON-ON-DAH-GAH. 

THE  ATOTARHO. 


JISKOKO. 

THE  MESSAGE. 

QUEBEC. 

THE  CALUMET. 

THE  TALK. 


CANTO   SECOND. 


THE  IROQUOIS. 


TWENTY-FOUR  years !  a  fleeting  span 
In  the  fleeting  career  of  man, 
Twenty-four  years  have  passed  along 
In  the  flow  of  my  humble  song. 

ii. 

Oh  the  Eagle  is  swift  when  he  sweeps  from  his  height, 
With  his  wing  to  the  wind,  and  his  eye  to  the  light, 
Darting  on,  darting  on  through  his  empire  of  air, 
With  nought  to  oppose  him — his  pathway  to  share  ; 
But  the  king  of  the  sky  would  have  drooped  on  his  way 
E'er  his  wing  could  have  measured  the  Iroquois  sway. 
The  League — the  proud  summit  had  clambered  at  length, 
Sought  so  long  by  their  firm  banded  wisdom  and  strength  ; 
Their  Long  House  extended  now,  spacious  and  high. 
The  branches  its  rafters,  its  canopy,  sky, 
From  Co-ha-ta-te-yah's*  full  oceanward  bed, 
To  where  its  great  bosom  Ontario  spread. 

*  "  The  Hudson  River"  in  the  Iroquois  tongue. 


24  FRONTENAC. 

The  fierce  Adirondacks  had  fled  from  their  wrath, 

The  Hurons  been  swept  from  their  merciless  path  ;       • 

Around,  the  Ottawas,  like  leaves  had  been  strown  ; 

And  the  lake  of  the  Eries  struck  silent  and  lone. 

The  Lenape,  lords  once  of  valley  and  hill, 

Made  women,  bent  low  at  their  conquerors'  will ; 

By  the  far  Mississippi,  the  Illini  shrank 

When  the  trail  of  the  TORTOISE  was  seen  on  the  bank  ; 

On  the  hills  of  New  England  the  Pequod  turned  pale, 

When  the  howl  of  the  WOLF  swelled  at  night  on  the  gale ; 

And  the  Cherokee  shook  in  his  green  smiling  bowers, 

When  the  foot  of  the  BEAR  stamped  his  carpet  of  flowers. 


Death,  death  to  the  tribes  that  now  lingered  behind 
When  the  Iroquois  young  men  came  on  like  the  wind. 
The  forests  were  filled  with  affright  and  despair 
When  the  whoops  of  the  Braves  keenly  rolled  on  the  air  ; 
They  looked — at  their  frown  the  whole  region  grew  black 
They  rose — and  their  way  was  the  hurricane's  track. 

IV. 

Stern  Frontenac  saw,  from  the  walls  of  Quebec, 
This  flood  from  the  woods  dashing  on  without  check. 
His  forts  were  surrounded,  his  outposts  were  burned, 
French  blood  he  saw  flowing  wherever  he  turned, 
Now  here,  and  now  there,  as  clouds  flash  in  their  strife, 
Was  the  dart  of  the  foeman,  the  flash  of  their  knife  ; 
The  hunter,  whilst  tracking  the  Hudson  Bay  snow 
In  search  of  the  ermine,  sank  under  their  blow  ; 


THE    IROQUOIS.  25 

The  settler  whilst  plying  his  axe  in  the  wood, 

At  the  skirts  of  Quebec,  dyed  the  earth  with  his  blood  ; 

The  batteauman,  pushing  his  craft  to  its  goal 

Up  the  swift  Cataraqui,*  fell  dead  at  his  pole  ; 

The  sentry,  whilst  guarding  Fort  Frontenac's  wall 

By  Ontario's  waters,  felt  death  in  the  ball ; 

The  fur  trader,  skimming  with  blanket  and  bead 

The  Lake  of  the  Hurons,  was  followed  to  bleed  ; 

Blood  crimsoned  the  earth,  and  cries  burthened  the  air, 

Until  Frontenac,  lashed  into  maddening  despair, 

Raged  round  like  the  lion  foes  gird  in  a  ring, 

His  mane  bristling  fierce,  yet  in  doubt  where  to  spring, 

Here  opening  his  roar  and  there  glancing  his  eye, 

With  the  circle  still  growing  more  threatening  and  nigh. 

v. 

The  proudest  of  all  in  the  hostile  array 

Was  young  Thurenserah,f  the  Dawn  of  the  Day, 

The  League's  Atotarho !  the  boldest  in  fight ! 

The  wisest  in  council !  in  form  the  most  bright ! 

The  fleetest  of  foot,  the  most  skilled  in  the  chase  ! 

The  glory  and  boast  of  the  Iroquois  race  ! 

Day  after  day  to  fierce  Frontenac's  ear 

Was  the  name  of  the  chieftain  borne  loudly  by  fear ; 

With  the  rush  of  the  blast  trod  the  Brave  on  his  path. 

Slaughter  and  flame  were  the  marks  of  his  wrath  ; 

In  the  silence  of  midnight  his  war-whoop  arose ; 

In  the  brightness  of  noonday  were  stricken  his  blows ; 

*  The  name  of  the  River  St.  Lawrence  in  the  Iroquois  tongue. 
\  "  Thurenserah"  signifies   in  the   On-on-dah-gah   language  '•  the   Dawn  of 
Day." 


FRONTENAC. 

Woe  to  the  French !  for  a  demon  seemed  sent 
On  its  way  of  dark  horrors  wherever  he  went ; 
Woe  to  the  French  !  for  the  hatchet  he  bore 
Wearied  not,  spared  not,  streamed  jever  with  gore  ; 
Woe  to  the  French  !  for  their  ramparts  of  stone 
Saved  them  from  utter  destruction  alone. 


THE  CANADIAN  SPRING. 

VI. 

'Twas  May !  the  Spring  with  magic  bloom 
Leaped  up  from  Winter's  frozen  tomb. 
Day  lit  the  river's  icy  mail ; 

The  bland  warm  rain  at  evening  sank  ; 
Ice  fragments  dashed  in  midnight's  gale ; 

The  moose  at  morn  the  ripples  drank. 
The  yacht,  that  stood  with  naked  mast 

In  the  locked  shallows  motionless 
When  sunset  fell,  went  curtseying  past 

As  breathed  the  morning's  light  caress. 
The  woodman,  in  the  forest  deep, 

At  sunrise  heard  with  gladdening  thrill, 
Where  yester-eve  was  gloomy  sleep. 

The  brown  rossignol's  carol  shrill  ; 
Where  yester-eve  the  snowbank  spread 

The  hemlock's  twisted  roots  between, 
He  saw  the  coltsfoot's  golden  head 

Rising  from  mosses  plump  and  green ; 


THE    CANADIAN    SPRING.  27 

Whilst  all  around  were  budding  trees, 

And  mellow  sweetness  filled  the  breeze. 

A  few  days  passed  along,  and  brought 

More  changes  as  by  magic  wrought. 

With  plumes  were  tipped  the  beechen  sprays  ; 

The  birch  long  dangling  tassels  showed  ; 
The  oak  still  bare,  but  in  a  blaze 

Of  gorgeous  red  the  maple  glowed  ; 
With  clusters  of  the  purest  white 
Cherry  and  shadbush  charmed  the  sight 

Like  spots  of  snow  the  boughs  among  ; 
And  showers  of  strawberry  blossoms  made 
Rich  carpets  in  each  field  and  glade 

Where  day  its  kindliest  glances  flung. 
And  air  too  hailed  Spring's  joyous  sway ; 

The  bluebird  warbled  clear  and  sweet ; 
Then  came  the  wren  with  carols  gay, 

The  customed  roof  and  porch  to  greet ; 
The  mockbird  showed  its  varied  skill ; 
At  evening  moaned  the  whippoorwill. 
Type  of  the  Spring  from  Winter's  gloom ! 

The  butterfly  new  being  found ; 
Whilst  round  the  pink  may-apple's  bloom 

Gave  myriad  drinking  bees  their  sound. 
Great  fleeting  clouds  the  pigeons  made ; 
When  near  her  brood  the  hunter  strayed 

With  trailing  limp  the  partridge  stirred ; 
Whilst  a  quick  feathered  spangle  shot 
Rapid  as  thought  from  spot  to  spot 

Showing  the  fairy  hummingbird. 


28  FRONTENAC. 


THE  PEACE-BELT. 

VII. 

In  the  same  room  where  Frontenac  stern 

Heard  the  loss  of  Lucille  and  the  death  of  Lavergne. 

Twenty-four  rapid  years  ago  ; 
In  this  same  room  were  his  footsteps  bent 

To  and  fro,  to  and  fro  ; 
Over  his  visage  shades  came  and  went  ; 
Now  thought  in  his  wrinkles  crouched  low  like  a  snake, 
Now  venomous  fury  all  up  and  awake, 

Now  death-like  pallor,  now  crimson  glow. 
Those  years  had  dimmed  his  eye's  quick  flame, 
Whitened  his  brow,  and  bent  his  frame, 
For  more  than  the  threescore-and-ten  had  been  given, 
Whether  in  favor  or  anger,  by  Heaven, 
Within  these  years  had  the  staff  of  command 
Been  wielded  by  another's  hand, 
But  once  more  at  his  sovereign's  word 
O'er  Canada's  destinies  stood  he  lord. 


VIII. 

To  and  fro,  to  and  fro, 
Frontenac  strode  through  light  and  shade 

Hastily,  heavily,  still  and  slow, 
As  thought  or  passion  within  him  swayed. 
Now,  chafing  fierce,  and  treading  high, 

Like  a  roused  lion  in  his  den  ; 


THE    PEACE-BELT.  20 

Now,  like  the  panther  creeping  nigh 

The  hunter  slumbering  in  the  glen. 
He  !  governor  of  the  province  !  he 
The  sport  of  Iroquois  enmity ! 
He  clenched  his  teeth,  and  his  sword  half  drew, 
Whilst  darkened  his  brow  to  a  swarthy  hue : 
"  Oh,  that  this  young  Thurenserah  stood 
Before  me,  e'en  in  his  native  wood, 
This  aged  arm — but  slumber  pride, 
'Twere  best  to  win  him  to  my  side." 
He  stamped  his  foot  "  Without  that  wait !" 

A  guardsman  in  his  presence  bent ; 
"  Ta-wen-deh*  bid  attend  us  straight !" 

Then  on  again  the  stridings  went. 
The  door  re-opened  ;  with  a  tread 

Noiseless  as  snowflakes  in  their  fall 
And  bowing  scarce  his  haughty  head, 

Near  came  an  Indian  grim  and  tall. 
With  one  proud  step  the  noble  met 
This  Huron  runner  of  Lorette, 
Holding  a  wampum  belt  in  sight, 
Of  braided  colors  black  and  white. 
"  Ta-wen-deh  !  take  this  belt  of  peace  ; 

Rest  not  till  Thurenserah's  found  ; 
Tell  him,  we  wish  the  storm  to  cease  ; 

The  hatchet  bury  in  the  ground. 
Tell  him,  the  Atotarho  proud, 

Forgetting  enmity  and  wrath, 

*  :i  The  Otter''  in  the  Huron  tongue. 


30  FRONT  EN  AC. 

Should  from  our  sky  sweep  every  cloud, 
Should  clear  all  briers  from  off  our  path. 

Tell  him  to  seek  this  lodge  of  stone, 

Where  oft  the  council  fire  has  shown  ; 

That  Yon-non-de-yoh  asks  a  talk 
The  tree  of  peace  between  to  set, 
Beneath  to  smoke  the  calumet, 

And  wipe  from  blood  the  tomahawk  !" 


ON-ON-DAH-GAH. 

IX. 

The  sunset,  from  his  rainbow  throne, 
On  On-on-dah-gah  Hollow  shone. 
A  double  ring  of  palisade 

Enclosed  within  one  half  its  bounds 
A  round-topped  Indian  village,  made 

Of  mats  and  branches ;  scores  of  mounds 
Told  that  the  other  yielded  space 
To  the  thrice  hallowed  burial-place  ; 
Thence  maize,  ris'n  newly,  spread  each  way, 
(Save  where  the  usual  ball-green  lay,) 
The  earth-domes  tipped  with  golden  glow ; 
The  whole  shaped  like  the  Indian  bow 
By  the  curved  forest,  and  a  stream 
That  stretched  below  its  sunset  gleam. 

x. 

Along  the  castle's  beaten  square, 
Displaying  marks  of  skill  and  care, 


ON-ON-DAH-GAII.  31 

The  dread,  renowned  Tcar-jis-ta-yo 
Extended  its  long  log-built  frame  ; 
Shrining  with  the  Sacred  Flame, 

Which  burned  with  never-ceasing  glow. 
Type  of  the  ancient  league  that  bound 

The  five  Red  Nations  into  one, 
Ages  had  seen  its  light  cast  round 

Successive  forms  of  sire  and  son 
In  countless  councils  bearing  part  : 
The  Feast  of  Union  every  year 
Renewing  by  the  radiance  clear 
The  tie  in  each  confederate's  heart. 


XI. 

Ever  on  high  the  smoke-cloud  streamed. 
In  summer's  sun  it  richly  gleamed  ; 
Against  stern  winter's  sky  of  gray 
In  wreaths  condensed  and  pale  it  lay  ; 
In  midnight's  hushed  and  solemn  gloom 
It  touched  the  heavens  with  sable  plume  ; 
Like  ocean's  surges  wild  it  cast 
Its  rolling  fragments  on  the  blast ; 
And  pointed  upward  deep  and  proud 
Toward  the  black  frowning  thundercloud. 

XII. 

All  eyes,  but  one,  were  barred  the  Flame, 
Save  when  the  Feast  of  Union  came  ; 
And  if  the  portal  oped  perchance, 

Or,  through  some  crevice,  streaks  of  red 


32 


FRONTENAC, 

Broke  out,  away  was  turned  the  glance, 
Quick  from  the  precincts  passed  the  tread. 

XIII. 

Unceasing  sustenance  it  found 
From  the  vast  forests  spread  around. 
The  boy  had  seen  it  with  awed  sight ; 
It  shone  upon  his  locks  of  white  ; 
Still  glowed  its  undiminished  light 

When  death  its  trophy  won  ; 
Another  generation  passed, 
And  still  the  ruddy  gleams  were  cast, 

Un wasted  as  the  sun. 

XIV. 

A  priestess  watched  with  tireless  care 
That  the  pure  splendor  of  the  fire 
Should  never,  day  nor  night,  expire, 

And  always  was  her  presence  there. 

The  Atotarho's  mother — she 

Cherished  with  pride  the  dignity 
To  keep  alive  the  blaze  ; 

And,  save  for  him,  her  heart  had  not 

A  thought  or  wish  beyond  the  spot 
So  sacred  to  her  gaze. 

xv. 
Once  every  year  a  glowing  brand, 

Whose  sparkles  from  the  Flame  had  birth, 
Was  borne  by  To-ne-sah-hah's  hand 


THE    ATOTARIIO.  33 

To  every  On-on-dah-gah  hearth ; 
And  there  again  the  wigwam-fire, 
For  this  end  suffered  to  expire, 
At  the  brand's  touch  its  radiance  threw 
The  hearth  thus  sacred  made  anew. 
Emblem  how  all  is  cold  and  black 

When  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  smile  is  o'er, 
And  then  how  warm  and  bright,  when  back 

Flashes  his  glorious  glance  once  more. 
Thence  through  the  Long  House  went  the  tread 
Of  the  gray  priest,  the  brand  made  red 
By  the  whirled  wheel,  and  everywhere 

Again  he  made  the  dark  hearths  bright 
With  the  fire-emblem,  whilst  the  air 

Rang  with  the  usual  festal  rite. 


THE  ATOTARHO. 

XVI. 

Upon  the  square's  opposing  side 

The  Atotarho's  lodge  arose  ! 
Its  domed  shape  also,  greater  pride 

And  skill  displaying  far  than  those 
On  either  side  the  space  that  flanked, 
And  into  ways  broad  trodden  ranked, 
Each  warrior's  totem  rudely  cut 
Above  the  porch  of  every  hut, 
With  narrow  transverse  lanes  between, 
Till  the  slant  pickets  closed  the  scene. 


34  ITvONTENAC. 


XVII. 

The  entrance  of  the  lodge  before 
Hung  a  gigantic  panther  skin 
(Spoil  of  the  Atotarho's  might 
Won  in  a  desperate  mountain  fight,) 
Whilst  beaver  furs  the  earthen  floor 

With  delicate  softness  robed  within. 
The  walls  with  deerskins  were  o'erspread, 
White  as  the  snow  the  lake-marsh  shed. 
Impending  from  moose-antlers,  shone 
The  League's  great  Calumet,  its  stem 
Plumed  like  the  feathery  diadem 
The  Atotarho  on  his  throne 
Of  branches  in  the  square  displayed, 
When  for  the  Union  Feast  arrayed. 


XVIII. 

His  own  rich  pipe  was  hung  below, 
Its  bowl  and  stem  one  general  glow 
With  thickly  pictured  tints  of  red, 
Telling  of  actions  stern  and  dread. 
On  one  side  was  the  bearskin  couch, 
Above  it  his  fusee  and  pouch  ; 
Around  were  ranged  the  war-club  strong 
And  curved,  with  its  wrist-looping  thong  ; 
The  bow  with  deeds  all  over  dyed, 
The  flint-head  arrows  at  its  side  ; 
Leggings  of  crimson,  mantle  felts  ; 


THE    ATOTARHO.  35 

Snowy  and  purple  wampum-belts  ; 
Moccasins  quilled  in  rainbow  hue  ; 
Broad  sinewed  snow-shoes  ;  girdles  blue  ; 
Sharp  scalping-knives  and  hatchets  keen  ; 
And  Feast-crown  rich  in  feathery  sheen  ; 
"Whilst  from  the  floor  a  sapling  sprung 
With  human  scalps  upon  it  strung  ; 
Age's  gray  locks,  long  woman's  hair, 
Childhood's  and  manhood's  blended  there. 

XIX. 

No  wife  the  warrior's  wigwam  shared. 
His  venison  or  his  maize  prepared  ; 
No  gentle  accent  welcomed  him 
When  from  the  chase  came  weary  limb ; 
No  soft  hand  bound  his  wounds  when  back 
Returned  from  battle's  bloody  track  ; 
Sweet  woman's  eye — that  household  star, 
Driving  all  household  gloom  afar — 
Within  his  bleak  walls  never  shone  ; 
The  Atotarho  lived  alone. 

xx. 

And  yet  more  bright  each  maiden's  glance 
When  moved  his  figure  in  the  dance ; 
More  eager  bent  each  listening  ear 
When  rose  his  war-song  high  and  clear  ; 
Each  maiden's  tongue  was  loud  to  tell 
His  feats,  so  bold,  so  terrible, 
The  foemen  slain,  the  castles  won, 
Within  the  frequent  war-path  done. 


36  FRONTENAC. 

XXI. 

When  through  the  ways  and  lanes  he  went, 
Dark  sparkling  eyes  were  on  him  bent ; 
Soft  hearts  beat  wheresoe'er  he  trod  ; 
Sweet  cheeks  blushed  sweeter  at  his  nod  ; 
For  as  the  League's  young  men  beyond 

In  deeds,  in  beauty  was  he  too  ; 
But  yet  affection's  gentle  bond 

The  graceful  warrior  never  knew. 
He — the  proud  Atotarho — kept 

No  thoughts  within  his  heart  for  love  ; 
His  spirit  with  the  eagle  swept, 

It  cowered  not  to  the  cooing  dove. 


JISKOKO. 

XXII. 

Still  for  that  nature  stern  and  high, 
One  loveliest  of  the  maiden  train, 
In  secret  heaved  the  burning  sigh, 

In  secret  felt  the  tender  pain. 
Her  mother,  captive  in  some  strife, 
In  youth  had  been  a  white  man's  wife. 
Then,  hurried  to  a  bloody  grave 
By  a  fierce  On-on-dah-gah  Brave, 
Who  said  she  had  forgot  her  pride 
To  slumber  by  a  Frenchman's  side  ; 
And  in  another  war-path  brought 
The  infant  to  her  tribe,  that  she, 


JISKOKO,  37 

Though  with  the  hated  blood  so  fraught, 
An  On-on-dah-gah  still  should  be. 


XXIII. 

Since,  eighteen  Springs  their  blossoms  sweet 
Had  twined  around  Jiskoko's*  feet. 
Her  large  soft  elk-like  eye  the  race 

Of  the  Ho-de-no-sonne  showed, 
Whilst  on  her  sunny  cheek  the  trace 

Of  her  pale  lineage — rose-like — glowed 
She  followed  ever  with  her  eye 
The  Atotarho  passing  by  ; 
Whene'er  his  look  was  on  her  turned, 
Her  do\vncast  brow  with  blushes  burned ; 
In  the  wild  dance  she  marked  his  grace, 
Her  whole  roused  soul  within  her  face  ; 
Whene'er  he  struck  the  battle-post, 
She  hung  delighted  on  his  boast ; 
When  on  the  war-path  stern  he  went, 

She'd  frequent  hide  to  weep  the  while  ; 
But  when  his  scalp-whoop  high  he  sent, 

Returning,  oh  !  how  bright  her  smile  ; 
And  the  glad  maidens  she  would  leave, 
As  if  for  very  joy  to  grieve. 
Then  when  she  joined  the  praising  throng, 

Amidst  the  tinkling  Indian  lute, 
Or  the  loud  swell  of  joyous  song, 

To  him,  she,  she  alone  was  mute. 

*  "  The  Robin"  in  On-on-dah-gah. 

3 


38  FRONTENAC. 

Yet  there,  e'en  there,  so  seeming  cold, 
The  sigh  and  blush  their  story  told. 
But  though  the  Atotarho  blind 

To  her  deep  love  appeared,  his  tone 
And  look  were  ever,  ever  kind, 

Telling  warm  friendship  held  the  throne. 


XXIV. 

Thus,  while  Jiskoko  loved  in  vain, 
She  wildly  was  beloved  again, 
By  Kah-kah*  of  fierce  desperate  mood, 
Whose  fiery  will  and  vengeful  blood 
Caused  her  to  shudder  and  turn  pale, 
Whene'er  he  told  his  hated  tale. 


xxv. 

His  sire  Ska-mix -hehf  was  a  Brave, 
Noted,  yet  to  vile  passions  slave. 
Treacherous,  blood-thirsty  as  a  wolf, 

Yet  full  of  deep  deceit  and  guile, 
A  calm  look  veiled  the  boiling  gulf, 

Murder  was  hidden  in  his  smile. 
But  still,  when  on  the  war-path  rushed 

His  feet,  so  just  his  after  boast, 
All  blame  was  in  his  praises  hushed, 

The  wretch  was  in  the  warrior  lost. 


Kah-kah  means  <;  a  Crow  "  in  the  On-on-dah-gah  tongue, 
f  Ska-nux-heh  means  "  a  Fox"  in  On-on-dah-gah.. 


THE    MESSAGE. 


THE  MESSAGE. 


XXVI. 

The  sun  his  journey  bright  had  bent 
So  low,  a  level  ray  he  sent, 
Tipping  the  forests  with  the  glow, 
Whilst  twilight  gathered  gray  below. 

XXVII. 

Upon  the  pleasant  outside  green 
Two  shouting  bands,  the  gates  between, 
With  their  broad  rackets,  sent  on  high 
The  ball  now  soaring  to  the  sky, 
Now  falling,  to  again  be  caught 
And  sent  aloft  with  speed  of  thought, 
Ever  upon  its  whizzing  wing 
As  though  it  were  a  living  thing. 

XXVIII. 

Here,  through  the  alleys,  warriors  bore 

Short  scarlet  cloaks  their  shoulders  o'er, 

Arrow  and  bow  in  either  hand, 

Yet  wearing  nought  of  war's  command  ; 

There,  others  strove  in  mimic  fray, 

Wrenching  the  fancied  scalp  away, 

Casting  their  tomahawks  about, 

Aud  quavering  war-whoops  pealing  out. 


40  FRONTENAC. 


XXIX. 

Boys  also  in  the  mocking  strife 
Whirled  the  dull  hatchet,  aimed  the  knife  ; 
Whooped  shrill,  the  scalp  in  gestures  rent, 
From  the  twanged  bow  the  arrow  sent, 
Or,  with  strained  strength,  and  flying  feet, 
Shot  on,  the  distant  goal  to  greet. 
Whilst  with  their  pipes  the  old  men  sat, 
Each  at  his  entrance  on  his  mat. 


XXX. 

Upon  the  straggling  trees  that  flung 

Their  boughs  outside,  upon  the  maize, 
Infants  in  their  lashed  back-boards  hung 

Asleep,  or  with  dull  patient  gaze ; 
Whilst  grouped  their  mothers  gossipping, 

The  corn  to  golden  powder  pounding, 
Drawing  the  water  from  the  spring, 

Or  the  kunatah's*  flame  surrounding. 

xxxr. 

Over  the  river's  surface  flew 
Youths  in  the  rapid  birch  canoe  ; 
Or  floated  for  their  finny  prey  ; 
Or  lurked,  the  feeding  duck  to  slay. 

*  "  A  Kettle  "  in  the  On-on-dah-gah  tongue. 


THE    MESSAGE.  41 


XXXII. 

Suddenly  mid  the  maize,  where  led 
A  pathway  to  the  neighb'ring  shades, 

A  stranger's  form  was  seen  to  tread, 
Approaching  toward  the  palisades, 

And  lifting,  as  he  came,  on  high 

Wampum  of  black  and  snowy  dye. 

A  ringing  wrhoop  of  warning  swelled 

From  those  the  figure  that  beheld. 

The  ball  plunged  down,  and  lay  in  sleep ; 

The  mock  fights  ceased,  ceased  whoop  and  leap  ; 

The  warriors  checked  their  sauntering  stride  ; 

Sought  the  canoes  the  river  side. 

XXXIII. 

The  comer  was  an  Indian  tall, 
And  on  him  curiously  gazed  all ; 
Grave  through  the  palisades  he  passed, 
And  paused  within  the  square  at  last. 

xxxiv. 

There  followed  too  the  village  crowd ; 

And,  though  the  warriors  silent  gazed, 
The  women,  boys,  and  children  loud 

Their  voices  in  enquiry  raised. 
But  mid  the  wild  and  chattering  din, 
The  grim  and  frowning  panther  skin 
Of  Thurenserah's  lodge  was  reared. 
And  at  the  threshold  he  appeared. 


42  FRONTENAC. 


XXXV. 

Of  beauty  high  and  rare  was  he  ; 

A  deer-skin  shirt  of  white  was  spread 
Close  round  his  frame  from  neck  to  knee, 

Meeting  his  leggings  richly  red. 
Delicate  were  his  features,  yet 
A  haughty  soul  was  in  them  set ; 
The  customary  paint  in  trace 
Of  red  and  black  was  o'er  his  face  ; 
And  while  a  slender  form  he  reared, 
Lithe  as  a  panther's  it  appeared. 

xxxvi. 

Upon  his  heart  his  hand  he  pressed, 
And  to  the  stranger  bowed  his  crest ; 
Then  to  the  Hah-yah-do-yah*  said, 

Who  near  him  stood,  "  my  Sachems  call  !" 
Next  to  the  stranger,  "  come  !"  his  tread 

Bent  toward  the  palisaded  wall, 
Where  the  long  council-house  appeared 
Beneath  a  row  of  hemlocks  reared. 

XXXVII. 

They  entered,  soon  the  Sachems  came ; 

The  circle  crouched  upon  the  floor  ; 

The  pipe  its  customed  circuit  bore  ; 
And  then  the  stranger  reared  his  frame, 

*  The  '•  Pipe-beare11."  or  aid  to  the  Atotarho. 


THE    MESSAGE.  43 

Extended  in  his  brawny  hand 
The  wampum,  and  in  accents  bland 
To  Thurenserah  said,  who  sat 
In  front  upon  his  tufted  mat, 
"  Ta-wen-deh  Yon-non-de-yoh's  talk 

To  the  great  Atotarho  brings ; 
He  seeks  to  plant  the  tree  of  Peace, 
Water  it,  bid  its  boughs  increase, 
And  then  to  hide  the  tomahawk 

Under  the  pleasant  shade  it  flings, 
And  hard  the  earth  above  to  tread, 
Until  it  is  like  rock  o'erspread  ! 
Then  round  the  tree  lock  Friendship's  chain, 
And  never  let  it  break  again. 
*  Great  Atotarho,  come  !'  says  he, 

'  To  my  stone  lodge  upon  the  rock, 

And  there  together  will  we  lock 
This  chain  unbroke  and  bright  to  be, 
Until  the  grass  shall  cease  to  grow, 
Until  the  waters  cease  to  flow ! '  " 


XXXVIII. 

A  guttural  quick  "  yo-hah ! "  awoke 

From  the  dark  ring  ;  still  no  one  spoke  ; 
Once  more  the  pipe  breathed  round  its  smoke, 

Then  Thurenserah  rose  ; 
His  eye  each  Sachem's  countenance 
Sought,  and  each  Sachem  to  his  glance 

Said  "  good,"  and  his  repose 
Vanished  into  a  lofty  air  ; 


44  FRONTENAC. 

His  head  he  reared,  his  arm  he  spread, 
"  Good  words  speaks  Yon-non-de-yoh"  said, 
"  The  Atotarho  will  be  there  !" 


QUEBEC. 

XXXIX, 

The  fresh  May  morning's  earliest  light, 

From  where  the  richest  hues  were  blended, 
Lit  on  Cape  Diamond's  towering  height 
Whose  spangled  crystals  glittered  bright, 

Thence  to  the  castle  roof  descended, 
And  bathed  in  radiance  pure  and  deep 
The  spires  and  dwellings  of  the  steep. 
Still  downward  crept  the  strengthening  rays  ; 
The  lofty  crowded  roofs  below 
And  Cataraqui  caught  the  glow, 
Till  the  whole  scene  was  in  a  blaze. 
The  scattered  bastions — walls  of  stone 
With  bristling  lines  of  cannon  crowned, 
Whose  muzzles  o'er  the  landscape  frowned 
Blackly  through  their  embrazures — shone. 
Point  Levi's  woods  sent  many  a  wreath 
Of  mist,  as  though  hearths  smoked  beneath, 
Whilst  heavy  folds  of  vapor  gray 
Upon  St.  Charles,  still  brooding,  lay  ; 
The  basin  glowed  in  splendid  dyes 
Glassing  the  glories  of  the  skies, 
And  chequered  tints  of  light  and  shade 
The  banks  of  Orleans'  Isle  displayed. 


QUEBEC.  45 


XL. 

To  active  life  the  scene  awoke  ; 

A  brigantine  her  canvas  spread, 
And  as  her  sailor-songs  outbroke 

Down  toward  the  southern  channel  sped. 
A  coureur  in  his  bark  canoe 
From  Skannadario's  boundless  blue, 
Measured  his  oars,  as  swift  along 
He  glided,  to  his  frontier  song ; 
And  a  batteau  forth  slowly  slipped 
Its  little  wTooden  anchors  tripped, 
The  boatmen  at  their  poles  low  bending 
Their  chorus  in  rude  music  blending. 

XLI. 

Quebec's  great  thoroughfare  within 
Rose  to  the  usual  stir  and  din  : 
With  flowing  plume,  and  mantle  gay, 
The  mounted  noble  went  his  way  ; 
Chauuting,  with  crucifix  on  high, 
A  train  of  monks  swept  slowly  by ; 
"With  pike  and  corslet,  grim  and  scarred, 
And  measured  step,  on  strode  a  guard. 
Coureurs  de  bois,  loud  chattering,  went 
Beneath  their  packs  of  peltry  bent  ; 
The  half-blood  scout,  with  footstep  light, 
Passed  glancing  round  his  rapid  sight ; 
Hurons  quick  bore,  with  loping  tread, 
Rich  beavers  toward  the  trader's  shed  ; 
3* 


46  FRONTENAC. 

Woodmen  with  axes  in  their  hands, 
Hunters  with  hounds  and  rifles  long, 

And  rough  batteaumen,  grouped  in  bands, 
On  sauntering,  swelled  the  motley  throng. 


XLII. 

Suddenly  rose  a  murmur  through 

The  busy  street ;  a  word  passed  on  ; 
Eyes  glanced  around  ;  together  drew 

In  groups  the  crowd  ;  with  visage  wan 
At  doors  and  windows  mothers  pressed 
Their  screaming  infants  to  their  breast ; 
Here,  with  clenched  teeth  men  grasped  the  knife, 
As  if  to  rush  on  desperate  strife ; 
Whilst  others,  there,  cast  looks  of  fear 
On  wives  and  children  shuddering  near ; 
What  word  was  that,  so  quick  had  made 
The  sun-bright  scene  so  dark  with  shade  ! 
'Twas  "  Thurenserah  !  "  uttered  now 
In  whispers  deep,  with  cowering  brow, 
And  spoken  now  in  anger  loud 
With  hand  tight  clasped  and  bearing  proud. 
"  Ha  !  here  he  comes  !  "  exclaimed  the  scout, 
"  See  how  he  throws  his  glance  about! " 
"  The  dog  !  here,  midst  us,  in  Quebec  !  " 
Muttered  the  noble,  sudden  check 
Giving  his  steed,  "  as  proud  his  feet 
As  though  the  forest  leaves  they  beat ; 
He  seems  to  beard  us  with  that  tread, 
And  how  he  lift?  his  haughty  head  !  ' 


QUEBEC.  47 

"  The  demon  !  see  his  glittering  knife  !  " 

Murmured  a  female  casting  look 

On  her  pale  child  who  by  her  shook, 
"  Christ  save  us  from  his  murderous  strife  !  " 
"  St.  Francis,  keep  it  far  away  !  " 
Exclaimed  a  passing  Recollet. 
"  Ho,  comrade  !  "  a  batteamnan  said, 
"  How  feels  the  scalp  upon  your  head  ! 
Creeps  it,  as  on  that  stormy  night 

We  tugged  upon  St.  Peter's  lake 
When  the  moon  showed  with  fitful  light 

That  fearful  savage  in  our  wake  ?  " 
"  Milet*  dost  thou  remember  Houx, 
Scalped  by  this  fiend  in  his  canoe?  " 
A  coureur  asked,  his  bended  back 
Freeing  an  instant  from  his  pack  : 
"  Ashes  are  where  Moyne's  cabin  stood, 

And  his  the  torch  that  waked  the  fire, 
His  hatchet  drank  Le  Renault's  blood, 

His  stake  saw  La  Montayne  expire, 
The  time  our  village  in  the  dell 
A  prey  to  his  wild  fury  fell !" 
A  rough  Carignan  settler  said, 
In  a  low  voice  of  rage  and  dread, 
To  a  fur-trader  at  his  shed ; 
"  Allaire  !  I  'd  give  a  year  to  strike 
That  haughty  Indian  with  my  pike  !  " 
A  youthful  guardsman  fiercely  cried, 
To  an  old  veteran  by  his  side, 
"  Hush  Merle  !  the  Calumet  behold, 
Besides  there  tread  his  followers  bold !  " 


48  FRONTENAC. 

Such  sounds  proclaimed  the  warrior's  way, 
Rising  and  sinking  as  his  feet 

Passed  crouching  hut  and  building  gray, 
That  walled  the  long  and  winding  street. 


THE  CALUMET. 

XLIII. 

On  came  the  Atotarho's  tread, 

Leading  the  file  of  his  tawny  band  ; 
Like  the  crest  of  the  elk  rose  his  haughty  head', 

Whilst  high  he  lifted  in  his  hand 
That  sign  of  peace,  the  Calumet, 
So  sacred  to  the  Indian  soul, 
With  its  stem  of  reed  and  its  dark  red  bowl, 

Flaunting  with  feathers  white,  yellow,  and  green, 
Which  seemed  as  if  jewels  were  over  them  set, 

As  they  glanced  to  the  sun  in  their  changeable  sheen. 

XLIV. 

Courage  that  danger  ne'er  disturbed, 
AncT a  proud  spirit  never  curbed, 
Were  throned  upon  his  forehead  bold, 
And  in  his  dark  wild  glance  were  told 
His  usual  close  white  robe  he  wore, 

Its  hue  in  emblems  nearly  lost ; 

A  short  fusee  his  shoulders  crossed  ; 
His  head  the  bristling  scalp-lock  bore  : 


THE    TALK.  49 

A  heron  plume  of  snow  hung  o'er ; 
(Memorial  of  that  bird  that  swept 

Its  way  to  Hah-yoh-wont-hah  dread, 
And  whose  pure  plumage  long  was  kept 

To  deck  the  bravest  warrior's  head.) 
Behind,  his  mat  hung,  richly  dyed, 
And  dangling  loosely  at  his  side, 

His  pouch  of  rabbit  skin  was  seen  ; 
His  limbs  bright  crimson  leggings  graced, 
Worked  moccasins  his  feet  encased, 

And  in  the  sunshine  gleaming  keen, 
His  hatchet  o'er  his  mat  was  slung, 
Whilst  his  long  knife  before  him  hung. 

XLV. 

His  warriors  also  bore  fusee, 

Hatchet  and  knife,  with  bearing  proud  ; 

But  not  a  sign  showed  enmity, 

"  Hai !  hai !"  they  sounded  oft  and  loud. 

Thus  down  St.  Louis'  Street,  that  led 

To  the  Place  d'Armes  all  slowly  sped, 

And  there  they  checked  their  lofty  tread. 


THE  TALK. 

XLVI. 

The  castle's  council  chamber,  long 
And  narrow,  raftered  low  and  strong 
On  a  raised  chair  sat  Frontenac, 
A  score  of  nobles  at  his  back, 


50  FKONTENAC. 

Whilst  pikemen  in  two  rows  before 
Stretched  to  the  threshold  of  the  door. 


XLVII. 

The  sunshine  through  the  casement  streamed, 

Filling  with  golden  glow  the  room, 
On  corslet,  casque,  and  pikehead  gleamed, 

And  danced  on  sword,  fusee,  and  plume. 
But  the  wide  portal  open  flew ; 
Five  forms  strode  up  the  avenue, 
By  the  grim  bristling  pikemen  made, 

The  file  the  Atotarho  leading, 

The  rest  close  after,  each  a  Brave, 
In  a  Brave's  weapons  each  arrayed, 

Seeming  to  see  nought,  stern  and  grave, 

Yet  subtly  every  object  heeding. 

XL  VIII. 

As  Thurenserah  slowly  passed, 
Around  his  eagle  look  he  cast, 
Smiling  with  scorn  as  pike  and  gun 
Flashed  all  around  him  in  the  sun. 

No  pause  he  made,  until  his  tread 
Placed  him  two  paces  from  the  chair 
Where  Frontenac,  with  kindling  air, 
Sat  gazing  ;  then  in  broken  speech, 
Whilst  swept  his  arm  a  haughty  reach, 

The  youthful  warrior  said  : 
"  Great  Yon-non-de-yoh  whispered  '  Come  ! ' 

To  Dawn  of  Dav,  and  he  is  here, 


THE    TALK.  51 


E'en  in  great  Yon-non-de-yoh's  home ; 

The  Atotarho  knows  not  fear, 
For  a  great  Brave  is  Dawn  of  Day : 
What  doth  my  Canada  father  say?" 


XL1X. 

A  breathless  pause  ;  at  length  'twas  broke 
By  Frontenac,  as  thus  he  spoke : 
"  My  Sachem,  dwelling  o'er  the  sea, 
To  his  red  children  speaks  through  me — 
Why  should  the  Ongue-Honwee  host 
Against  me  strike  the  battle-post ! 
Why  should  my  young  men  vainly  cry 

For  succor  at  their  burning  stake  ! 

Why  should  my  lightnings  round  them  wake, 
Bidding  their  boldest  warriors  die  ! 
Why  should  our  pathway  with  a  cloud 
The  brave  Ho-de-no-sonne  shroud  ! 
I  listen  as  the  west  wind  comes, 
Its  errand  in  my  ear  it  hums  ; 
It  says — I  bear  the  shriek  and  groan 

From  distant  Missillimakinak 
To  Yon-non-de-yoh's  lodge  of  stone, 

A  dreary,  long,  and  bloody  track. 
These  things  have  riven  my  heart  with  pain, 
But  let  us  now  make  bright  the  chain. 
We'll  smoke  the  Calumet  together, 

And  on  our  path  will  rest  the  glow, 
The  soft  warm  glow  of  Summer  weather, 


52  FRONTENAC. 

Not  Winter's  chilling  robes  of  snow. 

This  belt  preserves  my  words ! 
We'll  plant  the  peace-tree  deeply  now, 
So  that  its  shade  shall  steep  each  brow ; 
And  no  more  let  the  fires  of  wrath 
Be  kindled  in  the  battle-path 

By  deeds  or  singing-birds. 
See,  Thurenserah  !  yon  bright  pile 
Of  gifts  will  make  thy  warriors  smile  ! 
Fusees,  to  bring  the  fleet  moose  low  : 
Rackets,  to  hunt  him  in  the  snow ; 
Blankets,  within  whose  downy  fold, 
The  sires  can  brave  the  bitterest  cold  ; 
Sashes,  to  bind  the  robes  of  skin  ; 
Beads  for  the  tawny  moccasin ; 
Trinkets  to  make  the  squaws  more  bright ; 
Paints  fitting  warriors  for  the  fight ; 
Powder  and  ball,  to  scathe  with  flame 
The  foe,  and  heap  the  lodge  with  game ; 
Leggings  that  match  the  ruddy  blaze ; 
Kettles  to  boil  the  golden  maize ; 
And  look !  let  Thurenserah  spread 
Round  him  this  mantle  rich  and  red, 
Worthy  an  Atotarho's  sight, 
Who's  deeds  have  made  his  name  so  bright." 


L. 

The  warrior  stirred  not  from  his  place, 
But  reared  his  tall  light  form  more  tall, 


THE    TALK.  53 

And  said,  whilst  letting,  with  free  grace, 

Upon  his  arm  the  mantle  fall : — 
"  When,  in  his  snowy- winged  canoe, 
First  Walking  Thunder*  crept  to  view, 

On  Cataraqui's  flood, 
The  Adirondack  dogs  the  knife 
Against  my  people  held  in  strife, 

Red  ever  with  their  blood. 
(So  by  the  oldest  sires  avouched, 
In  Winter,  in  the  lodges  crouched  ;) 
And  though  these  dogs  now  trembling,  feel 
The  scornful  stampings  of  our  heel, 
Then  did  our  fathers  know  their  wrath, 
And  die  within  their  bloody  path. 
Beside  that  broad  and  lovely  lake 

Where  dwells  the  Prophet  of  the  winds, 
Who,  if  no  offering  mortals  make 

Passing  his  lodge  of  rock,  unbinds 
His  rushing  fury  o'er  the  wave, 
And  whelms  them  in  a  watery  grave ; 
Herding  with  those  base  dogs,  the  fires 

Of  Walking  Thunder  fiercely  flashed 
Against  the  bosoms  of  our  sires, 

And  down  to  earth  their  bravest  dashed, 
Sudden,  as  when  the  lightning's  bound 
Cleaves  the  proud  hemlock  to  the  ground. 
They  made  our  trembling  warriors  bow, 

Warriors  who  only  bowed  before 

To  Hah-wen-ne-yo  ;  from  the  roar 

*  Champlain. 


54  FRONTENAC. 

And  flash  of  Walking  Thunder's  wrath, 
Their  feet  flew  o'er  a  briery  path, 
And  long  they  veiled  their  humble  brow. 


LI. 

"  But  the  wise  Charistooni*  came, 

And  gave  the  dust  where  slept  the  flame 

To  our  awed  sires.     From  that  bright  hour, 

Their  scalp-locks  loftier,  loftier,  rose, 
They  climbed  the  mountain  of  their  power, 

They  poured  destruction  on  their  foes; 
Each  warrior's  lodge  with  scalps  was  filled, 
We  swam  within  the  blood  we  spilled. 
Not  only  Adirondacks  bowed, 
When  o'er  them  passed  our  tempest-cloud, 
But  Huron,  Erie,  Illini, 
Ottawa,  Pequod,  bent  the  knee, 
Until  turned  every  red  man  pale, 
Where'er  was  seen  our  stealthy  trail ; 
And  where  our  wandering  footsteps  led, 
The  earth  was  strown,  like  leaves,  with  dead. 


LII. 

"  Then  the  good  Charistooni  placed 
The  chain  in  Corlear's  friendly  hands  ; 
Since,  side  by  side,  the  game  we've  chased, 

*  The  Dutch  were  so  callel  by  the  Iroquois. 


THE    TALK.  55 

And  still  the  tree  we  planted  stands, 

This  belt  preserves  my  talk  ! 
Oft  has  the  Atotarho  smoked 

The  pipe  with  Corlear,  his  white  brother, 
And  oft  have  we  the  smiles  invoked 

Of  Hah-wen-ne-yo  on  each  other  ; 

Deep  lies  our  tomahawk ! 
If  Yon-non-de-yoh,  then,  the  chain 

Would  place  in  Thurenserah's  grasp, 
And  make  it  free  from  every  stain, 

The  links  must  Corlear  also  clasp, 
And  Yon-non-de-yoh,  with  his  hand 
Upon  his  heart,  by  Corlear  stand, 
A  brother." 

— "  Nay,  it  cannot  be  !" 

Thus  broke  in  fiery  Frontenac  : 
"  The  mighty  Sachems  o'er  the  sea 

Have  dug  the  hatchet  from  the  ground, 

The  knife  must  gleam,  the  war-whoop  sound  ; 
Ne'er  Yon-non-de-yoh  bends  the  knee, 

Or  from  the  war-path  turns  him  back  !" 
"  Then!"  and  the  Atotarho  dashed 
The  mantle  down,  with  eye  that  flashed, 

And  spurned  it  with  disdain  ; 
"  Then  shall  the  hatchet  still  be  red, 
And  still  the  sky  with  clouds  be  spread  ; 
See  !  Thurenserah's  scornful  tread 

Is  on  the  broken  chain  !" 
"  This  to  my  face  !"  cried  Frontenac, 
Upstarting,  "  Seize  him  !" — In  his  track 
The  savage  turned — one  bound  he  made, 


56  FRONTENAC. 

His  hatchet  gleamed,  and  low  was  laid 

A  pikeman  on  the  floor  ; 
Another  bound,  another  blow, 
Beneath  his  feet  another  foe 

"Was  gasping  in  his  gore  ; 
A  third,  and,  with  a  war-whoop  shrill, 
That  pierced  all  ears  with  deafening  thrill, 

He  vanished  through  the  door  ; 
Over  his  tribesmen  fierce,  who  stood 
Stern,  fighting,  till  they  fell  in  blood, 

Nobles  and  pikemen  pour. 
Across  the  court  the  chieftain  flies, 
One  struggle  more — the  sentry  dies  ; 

Haste,  haste,  thy  need  is  sore ! 
Ope,  ope  the  sally-port !  thy  flight 
Thy  foemen  press  with  stern  delight, 

Thy  warriors  are  before. 
Joy,  joy !  the  sally-port  is  spread  ! 
And,  with  loud  whoop  and  winged  tread, 
He  plunges  rnidst  his  tribesmen  red, 
And  with  quick  words  he  points  ahead — 

All  vanish  from  the  square ; 
Up  through  St.  Louis'  Street  they  dash, 
Corslet  arid  pike  behind  them  flash, 
And  shots  at  rapid  periods  crash, 

But  on\vard  still  they  bear. 
All,  wondering,  view  the  warriors  flee, 
In  their  left  hands  the  clutched  fusee, 

The  hatchet  in  their  right, 
Batteauman,  hunter,  coureur,  scout, 
Show  their  surprise  by  clamorous  shout, 


THE    TALK.  57 

Women  shriek  wild  with  fright ; 
Yet  scarce  is  marked  the  tawny  crowd 
Before,  like  passage  of  a  cloud, 

They  shoot  athwart  the  sight ; 
But  ere  they  gain  the  walls,  a  band 
Of  hunters  in  their  pathway  stand, 
Poured  from  a  little  inn  at  hand, 
(Roused  by  Ta-wen-deh,  who  had  sought 
The  place  at  Frontenac's  quick  thought, 
By  a  side  alley  thither  brought,) 

And  deadly  fire  throw  in ; 
Hatchets  and  knives  and  wood-blades  flash, 
Fusees  and  rifles  blend  their  crash, 

Whoop,  shout,  and  scream  their  din ; 
Bosom  to  bosom,  eye  to  eye, 
Pale-face  and  red-skin  sink  to  die, 

Blood  gushes  through  the  street  ; 
Near  and  more  near  the  armed  array 
Of  guardsmen  come  to  grasp  their  prey ; 
Still  cut,  still  cut,  wild  Braves  !  your  way  ! 

Still  urge,  still  urge  your  feet ! 
Haoh  !*  Ha-wen-ne-yo's  smile  is  cast 
Upon  them  yet — they  reach  at  last 
The  walls — the  sentries  low  they  bring, 
The  massive  gates  they  open  swing, 

"Nought  now  their  way  retards, 
And  turning,  Thurenserah  throws 
His  hatchet  with  a  look  that  glows 
In  glaring  fury  at  his  foes  ; 

*  An  exclamation  in  Iroquois,  expressive  of  joy  or  triumph. 


58  FRONTENAC. 

Then,  as  dash  near  the  guards, 
Vanishes  with  his  dusky  band 
Amidst  the  tangled  woods  at  hand. 


END  OF  CANTO  SECOND. 


CANTO  THIRD, 


THE  WAR-SONG. 
THE  HUNTERS. 
THE  BATTEAU. 


THE  CARIGXAN 

VILLAGE. 
THE  BRIGANTINE. 


CANTO  THIRD. 


THE  WAR-SONG. 


"  HOOH  !  hooh  !  how  the  panther  springs, 
As  flies  the  deer  on  affrighted  wings ! 
Hooh  !  hooh  !  how  he  rends  his  prey  ! 
So  will  the  On-on-dah-gahs  slay  ! 
Hoop  !  whoop  !  how  he  rends  his  prey  ! 
So  will  the  On-on-dah-gahs  slay  ! 

"  Hooh  !  hooh  !  how  the  eagle  screams, 

As  the  blood  of  the  fawn  from  his  talons  streams ! 

Hooh  !  hooh  ;  how  the  woods  ring  out ! 

So  will  the  On-on-dah-gahs  shout ! 

Hooh !  whoop  !  how  the  woods  ring  out ! 

So  will  the  On-on-dah-gahs  shout !  " 


ii. 

Thus,  the  next  morning  that  beheld 

The  Atotarho  safe  again 
At  On-on-dah-gah,  loudly  swelled 

The  war-song  in  its  angriest  strain. 
4 


62  FRONT  EN  AC. 

Revenge  on  Yon-non-de-yoh  !  high 
Went  up  the  fierce  and  bloody  cry ; 
Revenge  on  all  his  race  !  their  ire 
Flashed  into  furious,  frenzied  fire  ; 
Revenge  !  revenge  !  it  filled  the  day, 
It  e'en  disturbed  the  midnight's  sway, 
Its  sound  the  Atotarho  swelled, 
The  echo  wild  his  warriors  yelled, 
The  old  men,  women,  children,  all 
Blended  their  voices  in  the  call, 
Revenge  !  revenge  !  till  every  breast 
Had  but  that  passion  for  its  guest. 


in. 

And  now  round  flame  and  war-post  red 
Within  the  castles  crowded  square, 

The  wrathful  Atotarho  led 

His  Braves,  and  raised  his  chauntings  there, 

Joined  by  their  tones,  whilst  every  bound 

Beat  to  the  song  with  muffled  sound. 


1. 

"  Hooh!  hooh  !  how  the  sharpened  knife 
Will  glearn  again  in  the  war-path's  strife  ! 
Hooh  !  hooh !  like  the  lightning  red, 
The  On-on-dah-gahs  will  flash  in  dread ! 
Hooh !  whoop  !  like  the  lightning  red, 
The  On-on-dah-gahs  will  dart  in  dread  1 


THE    WAR-SONG.  63 


2. 

"  Hooh  !  hooh  !  how  the  hungry  fire  * 

Will  wrap  the  French  in  its  leaping  ire  ! 
Hooh  !  hooh !  like  the  torrent's  flood, 
The  On-on-dah-gah's  will  rush  in  blood  ! 
Hooh  !  whoop  !  like  the  torrent's  flood, 
The  On-on-dah-gahs  will  rush  in  blood ! " 

Breaking  the  song,  above  his  head 

The  Atotarho  flashed  a  sweep 
With  his  bright  hatchet ;  down  it  sped, 

And  in  the  post  was  buried  deep. 
The  next  one  gave  a  piercing  yell, 
And  down  his  hatchet  also  fell. 
Another  struck — another — shrill 
Whoop  upon  whoop  resounding,  till 
Blows  rained  upon  the  post  so  fast, 
In  fragments  round  'twas  strown  at  last. 

IV. 

The  Atotarho  clutched  his  axe 

And  shook  it  high  with  fiercest  gaze, 
Then — scores  of  \varriors  in  his  tracks — 

Rushed  through  the  palisades,  the  maize, 
And  bounding  to  the  water-side 

Where,  from  the  soft  white  bass-wood  hollowed, 
Three  war  canoes  with  withes  were  tied, 

Entered  the  first ;  his  warriors  followed 


64  FRONTENAC. 

Till  all  were  filled,  and  the  furious  throng 
With  flashing  paddles  then  left  the  shore, 

Skimming  the  river  with  whoop  and  song 
Upon  their  war-path  of  flame  and  gore. 


THE  HUNTERS. 

v. 
'Twas  one  of  June's  delicious  eves  ; 

Sweetly  the  sunset  rays  were  streaming, 
Here  tangled  in  the  forest  leaves, 

There  on  the  Cataraqui  gleaming. 
A  broad  glade  lay  beside  the  flood 
Where  tall  dropped  trees  and  bushes  stood. 

A  cove  its  semicircle  bent 
Within,  and  through  the  sylvan  space, 
Where  lay  the  light  in  splintered  trace, 

A  moose,  slow  grazing,  went ; 
Twisting  his  long,  curved,  flexile  lip 
Now  the  striped  moosewood's  leaves  to  strip, 
And  now  his  maned  neck,  short  and  strong, 
Stooping,  between  his  fore-limbs  long 
Stretched  widely  out,  to  crop  the  plant 
And  tall  rich  grass  that  clothed  the  haunt. 
On  moved'he  to  the  basin's  edge, 
Mowing  the  swordflag,  rush,  and  sedge, 
And,  wading  short  way  from  the  shore 
Where  spread  the  waterlilies  o'er 
A  pavement  green  with  globes  of  gold, 
Commenced  his  favorite  feast  to  hold. 


THE    HUNTERS.  65 

VI. 

So  still  the  scene — the  river's  lapse 

Along  its  course  gave  hollow  sound, 
With  some  raised  wavelet's  lazy  slaps 

On  log  and  stone  around ; 
And  the  crisp  noise  the  moose's  cropping 
Made,  with  the  water  lightly  dropping 
From  some  lithe,  speckled,  lily  stem 

Entangled  in  his  antlers  wide, 
Thus  scattering  many  a  sparkling  gem 

Within  the  gold-cups  at  his  side. 
Sudden  he  raised  his  head  on  high, 
Oped  his  great  nostrils,  fixed  his  eye, 
Reared  half  his  giant  ear-flaps,  stood, 

Between  his  teeth  a  half-chewed  root, 
And  sidelong  on  the  neighboring  wood 

Made  startled  glances  shoot. 
Resuming  then  his  stem,  once  more, 

He  bent,  as  from  suspicion  free, 
His  bearded  throat  the  lilies  o'er, 

And  cropped  them  quietly. 


VII. 

Minutes  passed  on  in  such  repose, 
No  sound  within  the  scene  arose, 
Save,  as  before,  the  river's  tinklings  ; 

The  rustling  that  the  feeding  moose 
Made  midst  the  lilies,  and  the  sprinklings 

Each  mass  of  roots  he  reared  let  loose  ; 


66  FRONTENAC. 

But  now  a  rifle  cracked, — he  started, 
And  through  the  ruffled  basin  darted, 
Found  quickly  the  opposing  side, 

And,  hoofs  loud  clicking,  left  the  spot, 
His  frame  extended  in  a  wide, 

Headlong,  yet  awkward  trot ; 
But  scarce  an  arrow's  flight  he  bore, 

When  burst  another  quick  flat  sound, 
And,  with  drawn  limbs,  and  gushing  gore, 

He  floundered  on  the  ground. 
Two  hunters  rushed  then  from  the  shade, 
And  whilst  one  drew  his  woodman's  blade 

Across  the  victim's  throat, 
The  other  whooped  out  shrill  and  keen, 
That  rang  along  the  silent  scene 

In  startling,  deafening  note. 


VIII. 

As  from  their  prey  they  strip  the  skin, 
Two  other  hunters  enter  in, 
Bearing  a  deer  with  staggering  strength, 
And  on  the  greensward  cast  their  length. 
Now  voices  all  around  are  heard, 
The  leaves  by  hasty  feet  are  stirred, 
And  soon  the  whole  gay  hunter  band 
Within  the  sylvan  hollow  stand, 
Casting  their  wildwood  game  around 
Until  it  thickly  strews  the  ground. 


THE    HUNTERS.  67 


IX. 

Now  the  golden  light  has  slid 
From  the  hemlock's  pyramid  ; 
Now  the  maple's  dome  is  dark, 
Flashing  late  with  lustrous  spark  ; 
And  within  the  solemn  woods, 
Twilight,  dusk  and  shimmering,  broods. 

x. 

Soon  the  pile  of  sticks  and  leaves 
Fire  from  flint  and  steel  receives, 
And  the  flesh,  in  juicy  flakes, 
Odors  rich  and  pungent  makes  ; 
Seated  on  the  pleasant  grass, 
Jest  and  song  the  hunters  pass  ; 
Then,  the  rites  to  hunger  paid, 
Careless  every  limb  is  laid 
On  the  sweet  and  dewy  glade. 

XI. 

"  'Twas  a  long  shot  which  struck  that  goose,1 
Says  one,  "  he  beat  the  air  so  far  !" 

11  Yes,"  cries  another,  "  and  the  moose 
Some  caution  cost  us;  hey,  Bizarre?" 

"  Had  he  but  been  that  fiend-like  boy, 

The  Atotarho,  greater  joy," 

Answered  Bizarre,  "within  would  glow! 

I  saw  a  wolf,  an  hour  ago, 

Down  in  the  Wild-cat  streamlet's  glen, 


68  FRONTENAC. 

And  his  fierce  rolling  eye  was  like, 
I  thought,  to  that  young  demon's,  when 

I  saw  him  low  Jerandeau  strike, 
Before  the  Inn  of  the  Canoe, 
When  his  wild  band  came  trooping  through 
St.  Louis'  Street,  like  panthers  leaping ; 
*  %       Oh,  that  an  instant  brief  he  stood 
In  my  good  rifle  Bee-flight's  keeping, 

He'd  never  spill  another's  blood!" 
"  Why  did  not,"  gay  another  cried, 

"  Bee-flight  bore  through  him  in  the  strife  ?" 
"  As  hard  as  gun  e'er  did  it  tried, 
But  fortune  favored  not ;  beside 

It  had  to  guard  its  master's  life !" 
"  Well,  let  the  Atotarho  go," 

A  third  one  said ;  "  we  cannot  reach 

His  fierce  bloodthirsty  heart  with  speech — 
Come,  come,  Bizarre,  let  pleasure  flow ! 
Sing,  sing  !  the  <  Happy  Hunters'  swell, 
We  all  can  trip  the  chorus  well !" 


XII. 

Bizarre  hemmed  loud,  then  poured  amain, 
Till  the  woods  rang,  his  forest  strain  : — 

1. 

"  Happy  and  free 
Hunters  are  we, 
Free  as  the  winds  that  roam  so  wide ; 


THE    HUNTERS.  69 


Camping  at  night, 
Up  with  the  light, 

Hunters  are  happy  whatever  betide  ! 

Shout  out  the  chorus  then, 

Swing  it  out  louder,  men ! 

Sorrow  or  care  cannot  with  us  abide, 

Hunters  are  happy  whatever  betide ! 


2. 

"  Happy  and  free 

Hunters  are  we, 
Free  as  the  clouds  that  above  us  glide  ; 

Scorning  the  worst, 

Hunger  and  thirst, 

Hunters  are  happy  whatever  betide  ! 

Shout  out  the  chorus  then, 

Swing  it  out  louder,  men  ! 

Sorrow  or  care  cannot  with  us  abide, 

Hunters  are  happy  whatever  betide  !" 


XIII. 

On  pass  the  hours :  the  camp-fire  bright 
Steeps  the  near  leaves  in  bronzing  light, 
And  shifting,  plays  o'er  the  figures  laid, 
In  the  generous  glow,  on  the  grassy  glade. 
The  whetsaw's  tinkle,  the  owl's  loud  shout, 
And  the  ceaseless  chime  of  the  frogs,  ring  out ; 
With  the  neighboring  Cataraqui's  rush 
Making  profounder  the  midnight  hush. 
4% 


70  FRONTENAC. 


XIV. 

Silent  are  the  sentries  sitting ; 
One  feels  dozing  visions  flitting 
O'er  his  brain,  while  Fancy,  teeming, 
Riots  through  the  other's  dreaming. 

xv. 

Creeping,  creeping,  onward  creeping, 
Toward  the  sentries,  helpless  sleeping, 
Amidst  the  gloom 
Two  figures  come — 
Are  they  wolves  upon  their  way  ? 
Creeping,  creeping,  on  still  creeping, 
Then,  like  lightning,  upward  leaping, 
Fall  they  on  their  slumbering  prey. 


XVI. 

Two  flashing  blows,  two  gasps,  once  more 

Silence  broods  for  an  instant  o'er  ; 

Wild  forms  are  then  in  a  circle  round 

The  slumbering  hunters — a  blended  sound 

Of  crashing  rifles,  a  whooping  bound 

Of  the  figures  wild,  and  the  camp-fire's  ground 

Is  covered  with  shapes  that  fall  and  rise, 

Rise  and  fall,  with  shouts  and  cries 

Pealing,  whilst  savage  fury  plies 

Its  murderous  work :  as  Bizarre  sank  low, 

An  ember  launched  upward  a  tongue-like  glow : 


THE    BATTEAU.  71 

He  saw  above  him,  in  glimmering  trace, 

The  hated,  yet  feared,  Atotarho's  face  ; 

The  next,  and  the  swift  curved  knife  is  gleaming, 

His  scalp  at  the  belt  of  the  chief  is  streaming. 

Out  peals  the  Iroquois'  war-song, — their  feet 

In  a  dance  of  mad  joy  the  green  forest-glade  beat 

"  Hooh  !  hooh !  how  the  panther  springs, 
As  flies  the  deer  on  affrighted  wings ! 
Hooh !  hooh  !  how  he  rends  his  prey ! 
So  do  the  On-on-dah-gahs  slay  ! 
Hooh  !  whoop !  how  he  rends  his  prey  ! 
So  do  the  On-on-dah-gahs  slay! " 

Then  Thurenserah  points  before 

With  his  smeared  knife,  and  in  the  wood 

Darts  with  his  tawny  Braves  once  more 
For  other  scenes  of  woe  and  blood. 


THE   BATTEAU. 

XVIL 

Morning  is  brightening  with  golden  smiles 
The  beautiful  "  Lake  of  the  Thousand  Isles." 
Scattered  all  over  the  green  flood  lie 
Islands  profuse  as  the  stars  in  the  sky  ; 
Here,  scarce  yielding  a  few  trees  room, 
There,  bearing  upward  a  forest  of  gloom, 


72  FRONTENAC. 

Breaking  the  wave,  now,  in  broad  expanses, 
That  flashed  out  like  steel  in  the  morning's  glances, 
And  now  into  vistas  whose  either  side 
Darkened  with  intermixed  shadows  the  tide. 


XVIII. 

A  duck,  beside  an  isle  of  wood, 

Within  a  watery  streak  was  steering, 
Dipping  his  green  head  in  the  flood, 

When,  quick  his  bill  of  yellow  rearing, 
With  a  loud  whiz  he  flew  away, 

As  a  gigantic  war-canoe 
Filled  with  a  grim  and  plumed  array 

Of  warriors  wild  came  shooting  through 
Amidst  them,  with  his  look  of  pride, 

Was  Thurenserah,  his  keen  eye 
Scanning  the  tangled  shore  beside, 

Till,  toward  a  weeping  elm-tree  nigh, 
Which  in  a  thickly  foliaged  wreath 

Down  to  the  wave  its  branches  threw, 
He  waved  his  arm,  and  underneath 

Instantly  vanished  the  canoe. 


XIX. 

It  was  not  long  ere  voices  gay 
Broke  on  the  air,  and  a  batteau 

Moved  up  the  furrowing  narrow  way 
With  its  rough  crew  in  double  row, 

Each  bending  shoulder  strongly  bracing 
Against  the  pole  with  struggling  strain. 


THE    BATTEAU.  73 


Then,  every  one  his  way  retracing, 
To  stoop  down  to  the  toil  again. 
The  long  curved  craft,  the  jackets  red 
Of  the  bent  boatmen,  gliding,  spread 
In  sharp,  soft  lined,  yet  shaken  trace 
Upon  the  water's  rippling  face. 


xx. 

"  The  sunset's  light,  I  trust,"  said  one, 

"  Antoine,  will  see  our  toiling  done." 

"  Aye,  Vigne,  sound  sleep  this  night  we  '11  win 

Fort  Frontenac's  strong  walls  within." 

"  That 's  more  than  we,"  Vigne  answering  cried, 

"  Gained  the  last  night — those  screams  and  whoops 
We  heard,  though  in  the  distance,  tried 

My  manhood,  comrades, — deeply  droops 
My  heart  within  me  as  I  think 

Of  those  poor  hunters  that  we  saw 
At  noon  along  the  river's  brink  ; 

For,  comrades,"  and  a  look  of  awe 
He  glanced  around  him,  "  we  all  know 

That  Thurenserah  and  his  Braves 
Are  on  the  war-path !" 

"Be  it  so," 

Broke  in  a  third,  "  we  '11  not  be  slaves, 
We,  boatmen,  we,  to  abject  fear ; 
I  did  not,  Vigne,  thy  whoops  e'en  hear  : 
Those  maringouins  !*  swarm  on  swarm 

*  A  little  white  gnat  found  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 


74  FRONTENAC. 

Thronged  all  the  night  about  my  form  ; 

The  little  white  fiends  seemed  as  mad 

To  drink  up  all  the  blood  I  had." 

"  Cease,"  said  Antoine,  "  the  morn,  at  least, 

Is  bright ;  we  taste  it  like  a  feast ; 

I'll  sing  the  boatman's  well-known  air, 

And  you  must  all  the  chorus  bear." 

"  Push  along,  boys,  push  along,  boys, 

Merrily,  cheerily  push  along  ; 
And  whilst  our  prow  makes  merry  music, 

We  '11  too  raise  the  song. 
We  '11  too  raise  the  song,  my  boys, 

Swift  as  we  push  along  ; 
Each  to  his  pole,  boys,  bend  to  each  pole,  boys, 

Merrily,  cheerily  push  along  ; 
And  whilst  the  waters  ripple  round  us, 

We  '11  too  raise  the  song. 

"  Push  along,  boys,  push  along,  boys, 

"  Merrily,  cheerily" — 

"Hush!"  said  Vigne, 

"  I  saw  a  flash  amidst  those  leaves 
Beside,  as  of  some  weapon  keen  !" 

"  Pshaw  !  some  white  birch  thy  sight  deceives," 
Impatiently  another  spoke — 
"  On,  let  the  song  again  be  woke  !" 

"  Push  along,  boys,  push  along,  boys, 
Merrily,  cheerily  push  along  ; 


THE    BATTEAU.  75 

And  whilst  the  wave  " — 

"  Stay !  stay  the  strain ! 

There  is  no  wind,  and  yet  I  see 
Yon  thicket  fluttering !     Mark  again 

That  gleam.     Ha  !  from  behind  this  tree 
I  saw  a  scalp-lock  peer.     Beware  ! 
My  comrades."     Just  then  on  the  air 
Broke  crashes  quick,  with  yell  on  yell 
From  the  close  banks.     The  boatmen  fell — 
Some  dead,  some  on  their  knees.     Once  more 
A  volley  rings,  and  from  the  shore 
To  the  batteau  fierce  figures  bound, 
Swift  weapons  flash — shrieks,  groans,  resound. 


XXI. 

"  Spare  !  spare  !  great  Atotarho,"  cries 
Vigne,  as  his  throat  a  warrior  grasps ; 
But  the  knife  plunges  ;  low  he  gasps  : 
His  rent  scalp  swings  before  his  eyes, 
And  with  a  shuddering  groan  he  dies. 
Then  whoops  the  Atotarho  keen, 
The  warriors  vanish  from  the  scene ; 
And  the  wild  isle  its  echoes  wakes, 
As  forth  the  savage  war-song  breaks. 


"  Hooh  !  hooh  !  how  the  eagle  screams, 

As  the  blood  of  the  fawn  from  his  talons  streams ! 

Hooh  !  hooh !  how  the  woods  ring  out ! 

So  do  the  On-on  dah-gahs  shout  I 


76  FRONTENAC. 

Hooh  !  whoop !  how  the  woods  ring  out ! 
So  do  the  On-on-dah-gahs  shout !  " 

Whilst  the  batteau  with  its  strewed  dead, 
Now  straight,  now  sidewise,  swiftly  sped, 
A  face  here  hanging — there  a  limb, 
O'er  its  stained  sides :  a  picture  grim  ; 
Down  at  the  mercy  of  the  flood, 
Marking  its  course  with  trickling  blood. 


THE  CARIGNAN  VILLAGE. 


XXII. 


The  sun  had  vanished — a  golden  rim 
Striped  the  western  horizon's  wall ; 

The  forest  arbors  were  fading  dim, 
Twilight  was  letting  his  mantle  fall. 


XXIII. 

'Twas  a  sweet  landscape.     A  village  stood 

Amidst  a  clearing  enclosed  with  wood. 

Log-built  cabins,  a  palisade, 

Pierced  with  two  gateways,  around  arrayed  ; 

Thence  to  the  Cataraqui's  glass, 

Were  wavelike  meadows  of  velvet  grass  ; 

Grain  fields  growing,  and  pastures  green, 


TUB    CARIGNAN    VILLAGE.  77 

Fallows  spotted  with  stumps  and  black, 
And  forest-choppings — a  choked-up  scene, 

Showing  the  axe's  recent  track. 
All  else  was  a  wilderness,  thickening  to  sight, 
Each  moment  beneath  the  first  shadows  of  night. 


XXIV. 

Oxen  were  plodding  like  snails  along 
To  the  open  gates  ;  and  with  careless  song 
The  settler  was  lounging  behind.     The  bleat 
Of  flocks  approaching  their  folds  was  sweet. 
Along  the  paths  of  the  winding  lanes 
Herd-bells  were  tinkling  in  fitful  strains, 
The  kine  now  stalking,  now  stopping  to  feed, 
Whilst  frequently  neighed  some  scampering  steed. 
Hunters  from  woodland  avenues  came 
Followed  by  hounds,  and  burthened  with  game ; 
And  from  the  far  hill-lots  echood  free 
The  sounding  axe  and  the  crashing  tree. 
A  sylvan  picture,  this  wildwood  land 
Sketches  alone  with  its  rough  fresh  hand . 


XXV. 

Over  the  brow  of  a  hill  that  towered 
Above  this  landscape — in  woods  embowered, 
The  shaggy  head  of  a  cedar  shot 
In  a  slanting  line  from  a  hollow  spot, 
Tangled  with  brushwood,  and  in  its  breast 
Deeply  his  limbs  had  an  Indian  pressed  ; 


78  FRONTENAC. 

Cautiously,  steadfastly,  through  the  green, 
He  drew  his  eye  o'er  the  village  scene, 
Then  gliding  down  to  the  hollow,  where 
Each  shadowy  bush  was  an  Indian's  lair, 
The  Atotarho  also  found 
The  depths  of  one  of  the  thickets  round. 


XXVI. 

A  youthful  couple  beguiled  the  night, 

With  talk  by  the  social  candlelight. 

"  One  short  year,  as  man  and  wife, 

We,  Marie,  have  skimmed  the  stream  of  life  ! 

One  short  year  from  to-day :  hast  thought 

Of  the  lovely  picture  the  sunset  wrought 

The  eve  we  wed  ?     My  sire,  who  then 

Danced  at  our  glad  merry-making,  said 

It  put  him  in  mind  of  the  day  he  wed ! 
You  know  he  was  one  of  Carignan's  men ! 
And  old  Lemoyne  says,  none  more  brave 
E'er  saw  the  flag  of  Carignan  wave. 
There  hangs  his  sabre,  all  rusty  and  dull ! 
I  wonder  if  ever  the  blade  I  '11  pull 
From  its  steel  scabbard !     Ta-wen-deh  the  scout, 

I  hear,  a  week  since  told  a  few, 

Within  the  Inn  of  the  Canoe, 
At  Quebec,  that  again  with  the  Iroquois  out ; 
That  Thurenserah,  inflamed  with  wrath 
From  Frontenac's  treatment,  had  taken  the  path  ; 
And  furthermore,  Marie,  a  coureur  saw, 


THE    CARIGNAN    VILLAGE.  79 

Whilst  threading  the  Thousand  Isles  above 
With  his  load  of  skins,  a  sight  of  awe, 

Where  swift  on  a  point  the  current  drove. 
Dost  thou  remember  the  large  batteau 
That  stayed  at  our  village  two  nights  ago, 
With  old  Antoine,  Le  Bas,  and  Vigne, 
And  the  rest,  with  the  dance  on  the  starlit  green  ! 
Well,  there  a  batteau  was,  stained  with  gore, 
With  heads  and  limbs  hung  ghastly  o'er — 
Beached  on  the  point :  he  approached  with  dread, 
There  lay  the  crew — our  poor  boatmen — dead, 
Scalped  and  mangled,  displaying  plain 
That  Iroquois  devils  his  friends  had  slain. 
Well,  Marie,  I'm  ready  to  draw  at  word. 
With  my  father's  heart  my  father's  sword  ! 
Hark  !  the  wind  rages,  a  stormy  night ! 
I  trust  that  to-morrow  will  rise  up  bright !" 
To-morrow  !     Ah,  folly  !  Ah,  vanity  ! 
Who — who  can  be  sure  that  to-morrow  he  '11  see  ! 


XXVII. 

Midnight  came,  in  its  sablest  hue, 
With  clouds  on  a  roaring  wind  that  flew  ; 
Nearer  and  nearer  the  dawn  of  day, 
Wrapped  in  its  slumber  the  village  lay. 


XXVIII. 

From  the  gusty  forests  passed 
Swift  approaching  shapes  at  last. 


80  FRONTENAC. 

They  force  the  gates  of  the  palisade — 

There  stand  the  dwellings  in  gloomy  shade ; 

Scatter  the  Iroquois  far  and  near ; 

A  moment  more,  and  their  whoop  of  fear 

Peals  out,  succeeded  by  crash  on  crash, 

As  inward  their  hatchets  the  frail  doors  dash  ; 

To  his  rifle  in  vain  the  Carignan  flies, 

The  hatchet  gleams  after — he  sinks,  he  dies  ! 

The  daughter  is  brained  as  she  shrieks  in  dread, 

The  hairs  of  the  grandsire  are  steeped  in  red, 

Mothers,  imploring  in  anguish,  fall, 

Infants  are  dashed  against  threshold  and  wall. 

Ah,  the  young  husband  !  he  starts  from  his  dream  ! 

Ah,  the  young  wife  !  she  but  wakens  to  scream  ! 

Those  whoops,  those  shrill  shrieks,  those  deep  groans  all 

around  ! 

The  Iroquois  !  God  !  can  no  refuge  be  found  ! 
They  glance  from  the  casement,  wild  forms  here  and  there 
Shoot  past,  weapons  glitter,  shots  stream  through  the  air  ! 
The  husband  has  drawn  forth  the  sword  of  his  sire, 
And  he  stands  by  the  barred  door  with  aspect  of  fire, 
Whilst  trembling,  half  frenzied,  his  Marie  is  nigh. 
"  Oh,  husband  !  oh,  husband  !  "  her  agonised  cry  ; 
"  My  brain  reels  !  oh,  Virgin,  most  holy!  we  flee 
In  this  time  of  our  need  for  protection  to  thee  ! 
Oh,  husband  that  fresh  burst  of  flame  !  mighty  powers  ! 
It  comes  from  the  roof  of  Lemoyne,  next  to  ours  ! 
Let  us  hide !  no,  the  torch  will  be  here  too,  we  '11  gain 
The  forest,  we  '11  steal  through  the  herds  in  the  lane  ! 
Come,  husband !  oh,  husband,  come !  haste !  let 's  begone  ! 


THE    CARIGNAN    VILLAGE.  81 

Oh,  God  !  'tis  too  late  !  here  their  glances  are  drawn  ! 

That  terrible  chieftain !  he  's  bounding  this  way ! 

'  Thurenserah !'  these  women  shriek  out  as  they  pray  ! 

Thurenserah !  oh,  husband,  no  help  for  us  now, 

We  die !"  and  she  veiled  in  mute  terror  her  brow, 

Ha,  that  shock!  she  screams  wildly,  down  crashes  the  door, 

And  a  Brave  bursts  upon  them  with  tomahawk  o'er. 

"  Spare,  spare,  Thurenserah  !"  but  downward  it  sinks, 

The  blood  of  the  husband  laid  prostrate  it  drinks ; 

The  Brave  plants  his  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  slain, 

And  down  falls  the  gore-dripping  hatchet  again ; 

The  wife  plunges  headlong,  her  sorrows  are  o'er, 

The  couple  shall  sit  at  the  hearthstone  no  more. 


XXIX. 

Still  flies  round  with  delight  the  brand, 
Flames  flash  out  upon  every  hand  ; 
Over,  the  clouds  are  bathed  in  red  ; 
A  glaring  horizon  around  is  spread  ; 
The  tops  of  the  woods  seem  to  stagger  in  smoke ; 
All  the  wild  life  of  their  depths  has  awoke, 
Eagle  and  panther,  and  wolf  and  bear, 
Screaming  and  howling  and  snarling  there  ; 
Blent  with  the  Iroquois  war-song  loud, 
Pealing  from  out  of  the  smoky  shroud. 

'  Hooh !  hooh  !  how  the  sharpened  knife 
Has  gleamed  again  in  the  war-path's  strife ! 


82  FRONTENAC. 

Hooh !  hooh !  like  the  lightning  red, 
The  On-on-dah-gahs  have  flashed  in  dread ! 
Hooh!  whoop!  like  the  lightning  red, 
The  On-on-dah-gahs  have  flashed  in  dread !" 


At  midnight  the  village  drew  slumber's  sweet  breath, 
At  day-dawn  'twas  hushed  in  the  stillness  of  death ; 
At  midnight  roofs  rose  in  the  wild  gusty  air, 
At  day-dawn  a  waste  of  dark  ashes  was  there ; 
Whilst  the  fierce  Atotarho,  more  vengeance  to  claim, 
Was  again  on  his  war-path  of  carnage  and  flame. 


THE  BRIGANTINE. 

XXX. 

In  the  soft  twilight's  darkening  glow, 
Near  the  wild  shores  of  Ontario, 
Where  points  of  wilderness  form  a  bay, 
Now  changing  its  hues  to  one  shade  of  gray, 
Three  crowded  canoes  of  Iroquois  Braves 

Are  gliding ;  in  one  Thurenserah,  now 
Bending  his  ear  to  the  glassy  waves, 

Ahead  then  looking  with  anxious  brow. 
Sudden  he  speaks,  and  the  prows  turn  quick 
To  where  a  cluster  of  spruces  thick 
Slants  o'er  the  waters,  their  shaggy  woof 
Shaping  there  an  impervious  roof, 


THE    BRIGANTINE.  83 

And  in  the  black  shadow  beneath  it  thrown 
Each  glides,  and  the  scene  to  all  seeming  is  lone. 
But  dashes  are  heard,  and  a  brigantine  creeps 
Round  one  of  the  points  to  the  push  of  her  sweeps ; 
Then  dropping  her  anchor  the  beautiful  bark 
Motionless  sits  in  the  gathering  dark, 


XXXI. 

A  group  of  seamen  surrounds  the  mast ; 
The  stream  of  their  converse  is  free  and  fast, 
"  The  Griffin,"  says  one,  "was  strong  and  fleet ; 

I  saw  her,  some  two-score  years  ago, 
Launched  on  Niagara's  rapid  sheet, 

Near  where  the  cataract  rolls  below  ; 
The  Sieur  La  Salle  and  his  gallant  crew, 

And  good  father  Hennepin,  learned  and  meek, 
Were  on  her  decks  as  she  downward  drew, 

And  kissed,  with  a  curtsey,  the  river's  cheek  ; 
The  Iroquois  Atotarho  too, 

Ku-an  was  there,  and  with  his  glance 
Of  dread  stood  Ta-yo-nee  beside,  who  slew 

His  sister  whom  Frontenac  brought  from  France, 
They  were  then  on  the  war-path  ift  which  they  fell, 
Both  of  the   chieftains  knew  I  well !" 
"What  tales,"  said  another,  "of  blood  we  hear 
From  the  now  Atotarho ;  deeds  of  fear 
By  this  young  Thurenserah  so  constant  are  done, 
That  a  score  of  warriors  he  seems  in  one ! 
The  Carignan  village  St.  Mie  you  know, 

Near  the  foot  of  the  Thousand  Isles — it  stood 


84  FRONTENAC. 

In  its  pleasant  clearing  three  days  ago, 

'Tis  a  waste  of  ashes  now,  slaked  with  blood ; 
The  Atotarho  led  his  band 
On  it  with  hatchet  and  with  brand  ; 
Not  a  dwelling  now  rises  there — 
Not  a  soul  did  his  fury  spare — 
Frontenac  well  the  day  should  rue, 
When  the  wrath  of  the  savage  he  kindled  anew." 


XXXII. 

The  frog's  hoarse  bassoon,  and  loon's  tremulous  shriek, 
Alone  the  deep  hush  of  the  scene  now  awake ; 
The  sailor  thinks  fond  on  his  watch,  of  the  spot 
Where  rises  mid  vineyards  his  dear  native  cot. 
Once  more  his  free  footsteps  press  valley  and  plain ; 
Once  more  the  glad  harvest  is  sounding  its  strain ; 
He  is  there — he  is  there  in  his  home  of  delight — 
He  starts,  he  looks  round,  the  lake  gleams  on  his  sight, 
But  the  starlighted  hush  again  falls  on  his  soul, 
Arid  his  thoughts  again  fly  far  away  to  their  goal. 


XXXIII. 

A  haze  has  now  spread  a  thick  mantle  of  gray, 

The  waters  are  hidden,  the  stars  shrink  away  ; 

From  the  roof  of  dark  cedars  quick  movements  begin, 

How  silently,  silently,  onwards  they  win  ! 

Still  silently,  silently,  every  canoe 

Still  urged  the  gray  waters  invisibly  through, 


THE    BRIGANTINE.  85 

Like  barks  from  the  spirit-land,  spectral  and  dim, 
So  still  fall  the  paddles,  so  light  is  their  skim  ; 
Still  silently,  silently,  onwards  they  glide, 
They  reach  without  question  the  brigantine's  side  ; 
Forms  spring  up  the  vessel — hush  !   hush !  not  a  sound  ! 
They  peer  o'er  the  bulwarks,  the  sleepers  are  round : 
They  grasp  now  their  hatchets,  all  caution  is  past, 
To  the  deck,  to  the  deck,  they  are  bounding  at  last ! 
Whoop  !  whoop  !  Tlmrenserah  the  foremost  is  there  ! 
"Whoop !  whoop  !  how  their  shouts  ring  abroad  on  the  air  ! 
Upstart  the  pale  sleepers,  and  wildered  by  fright, 
And  with  senses  still  swimming,  they  stand  to  the  fight, 
Hand  to  hand  is  the  battle,  clash  cutlass  and  knife ! 
Clash  steel-pike  and  hatchet ;  wild,  wild  is  the  strife ! 
Ho,  the  young  Atotarho  !  his  eyeballs  are  flame, 
And  the  blood  of  his  foes  is  splashed  over  his  frame  ! 
At  the  sweep  of  his  hatchet  one  plunges  in  death ! 
At  the  dart  of  his  knife  gasps  another  for  breath! 
God  save  the  poor  seamen !  no  succor  is  nigh  ! 
Christ  save  the  poor  seamen !  they  struggle  to  die ! 
They  are  borne  to  the  deck,  o'er  the  sides  are  they  cast ; 
The  water  grows  red  round  the  brigantine  fast, 
Till  nothing  remains  of  the  crew  but  the  dead, 
Then  over  the  vessel  deep  silence  is  spread. 
Off  darts  the  canoes,  smoke  the  doomed  bark  surrounds, 
On  the  lines  of  the  rigging  flame  flashes  and  bounds, 
Red  pennons  stream  out  from  the  red-circled  mast, 
A  glare  all  around  on  the  vapor  is  cast, 
The  waters  blush  crimson  ;  but  wildly  and  high 
The  Iroquois  war-song  goes  up  to  the  sky. 
5 


86  FRONTENAC. 

"  Hooh!  hooh !  how  the  hungry  fire 
Has  wrapped  the  French  in  its  leaping  ire 
Hooh !  hooh !  like  the  torrent's  flood, 
The  On-on-dah-gahs  have  rushed  in  blood  ! 
Hooh !  whoop  !  like  the  torrent's  flood, 
The  On-on-dah-gahs  have  rushed  in  blood  ! 


END   OF    CANTO    THIRD. 


CANTO   FOURTH. 


THE  THANKSGIVING 
DANCE. 

THE  DANCE  OF  THE 
GREAT  SPIRIT. 

KAH-KAH. 


THE  EXPEDITION. 
THE  BIVOUAC. 
THE  ABDUCTION. 

THE  RESCUE  AND 
DEATH. 


CANTO  FOURTH. 


THE  THANKSGIVING  DANCE. 

i. 
BRIGHT  ushering  in  the  day  of  feast 

For  Thurenserah's  safe  return 

From  his  red  path  of  anger  stern, 
The  dawn  was  flickering  in  the  east. 
As  the  rich  tints  began  to  spread, 

Brave,  Sachem,  sire,  boy,  matron,  maid, 
By  the  Priest  To-ne-sah-hah  led 
In  a  long  file,  slow  treading,  wound 
Thrice  the  Tcar-jis-ta-yo  around; 

Then  through  the  maize  fields  sought  the  shade, 

"Where  lay  the  customed  offering-glade. 
There  at  a  pile  of  faggots  dry, 

Heaped  with  dew-bespangled  forest  flowers, 

Just  gathered  from  their  sylvan  bowers, 
(The  Atotarho  standing  by,) 

As  the  sun  showed  its  upper  rim, 
The  gray-haired  priest,  with  upturned  eye, 

To  Hah-wen-ne-yo  raised  the  hymn. 
The  sun-fired  calumet  he  bore, 
Sending  its  light  smoke-offering  o'er. 


90  FRONTENAC. 

Yah-hah!  to  us  once  more, 
He  returns  to  us  once  more." 


1. 

"  Hah-wen-ne-yo !     Mighty  Spirit ! 

Humble  thanks  to  thee  we  render. 
Hah-wen-ne-yo !     Spirit  vast ! 
That  to  our  loved  Atotarho, 

Atotarho,  great  and  high, 

Thou  hast  been  a  kind  defender 
In  the  war-path  that  is  past, 

War-path  stained  with  deepest  dye. 
And  that  safe,  O  wise  Creator  ! 
Wise  Creator,  dwelling  o'er  ! 
He  returns  to  us  once  more, 

Yah-hah  !  to  us  once  more, 
He  returns  to  us  once  more. 

2. 

"  Hah-wen-ne-yo !      Mighty  Spirit ! 

Thou  art  to  our  League  a  father, 
Hah-wen-ne-yo  !     Spirit  good  ! 
And  around  our  Atotarho, 
Atotarho,  chief  of  fame, 

Thou  dost  robe  of  safety  gather 
In  the  war-path  past  of  blood, 

War-path  filled  with  blood  and  flame. 
And  thus  safe,  wise  Hah-wen-ne-yo ! 
Wise  Creator,  dwelling  o'er  ! 
He  returns  to  us  once  more. 


THE    DANCE    OF    THE    GREAT    SPIRIT.  91 


II. 

He  ceased — struck  steel  and  flint,  and  fire 
Glittered  in  sparks  upon  the  pyre  ; 
Then,  as  the  offering  sent  its  smoke 
On  high,  the  Braves  their  dance  awoke ; 
Whilst  To-ne-sah-hah  by  the  flame, 

The  rocking  stamping  ring  within, 
Praised  still  the  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  name, 

Amidst  the  rude  ga-nu-jah's*  din. 
But,  as  passed  off  the  morning's  shade, 
The  sacrificial  rites  were  stayed 
Until  the  sunset's  dipping  light , 

When  Thurenserah,  at  the  head 
Of  all  his  Braves,  would,  in  its  sight, 

The  dance  of  Hah-wen-ne-yo  tread. 

in. 

Pleasure  meanwhile  ruled  every  soul, 
The  bird-like  ball  swift  soared  on  high  ; 

The  straining  racers  sought  the  goal, 
And  mocking  war-whoops  rent  the  sky, 


THE    DANCE  OF   THE    GREAT   SPIRIT. 

IV. 

But  now  the  sun,  in  its  descent, 
Its  rich  and  stretching  radiance  bent  ; 

*  The  On  on-dah-gah  name  for  the  Indian  drum. 


92  FRONTENAC. 

Suddenly  To-ne-sah-hah  beat 

A  great  drum,  planted  in  the  square  : 

Ceased  war-whoop  shrill,  paused  flying  feet, 
The  ball  no  longer  whirled  in  air ; 

And  as  once  more  together  came 

The  village  throng,  his  lodge  from  out, 
Amidst  a  general  joyful  shout 

Stepped  Thurenserah's  graceful  frame, 

The  close  white  robe  was  o'er  his  breast ; 

The  snowy  plume  beside  his  crest ; 

His  right  hand  grasped  a  bow  sketched  o'er 

With  deeds  ;  his  left  an  arrow  bore. 


v. 

He  strode  with  slow  majestic  pace 

To  where  his  Hoh-se-no-wahns*  stood 

Armed  like  himself;  then  all  the  place 
Left  for  the  sacrificial  wood. 

Heading  the  long  and  dusky  file, 
At  length  the  Atotarho  checked 
His  footstep  in  the  glade  now  decked 

With  the  soft  sunset's  sinking  smile. 


VI. 

The  women  lined  in  groups  the  scene, 
Fastening  upon  the  Braves  their  sight, 

As  they,  upon  the  floor  of  green, 
Prepared  to  celebrate  the  rite  ; 

*  "  Thief  warriors"  in  the  On-on-dah-gah  tongue. 


THE  DANCE  OF  THE  GREAT  SPIRIT.         93 

Whilst  age  and  childhood  sought  the  shade 
That  thickly  edged  the  sylvan  glade. 

VII. 

The  Braves,  with  arrow  and  with  bow 

In  either  head,  gazed  steadfastly 
Upon  the  sun,  whose  parting  glow 

Streamed  down  the  glade's  green  vista  free. 
And  as  the  west's  rim  felt  its  flame 
The  Atotarho  forward  came, 
Quick  swinging  in  a  dance  his  frame  ; 
And  in  the  mild  and  mellow  blaze, 

Where  a  soft  golden  carpet  shone, 

Began,  in  quavering  guttural  tone, 
The  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  hymn  to  raise. 

1. 

"  Mighty,  mighty  Hah-wen-ne-yo  !    Spirit  pure  and  mighty  ! 

hear  us  ! 
We   thine    own   Ho-de-no-sonne,    wilt    thou   be   for    ever 

near  us ! 
Keep  the  sacred  flame  still  burning !  guide  our  chase !  our 

planting  cherish  ! 
Make  our  warriors'  hearts  yet  taller !  let  our  foes  before  us 

perish  ! 
Kindly  watch  our  waving  harvests !  make  each  Sachem's 

wisdom  deeper  ! 
Of  our  old  men,   of  our  women,   of  our    children   be  the 

Keeper  ! 
Mighty,   holy  Hah-wen-ne-yo !      Spirit  pure  and  mighty ! 

hear  us ! 

5* 


94  FRONTENAC. 

We    thine   own    Hode-no-sonne,    wilt    thou   be   for    ever 

near  us  ! 
Yah-hah !  for  ever  near  us  !  wilt  thou  be  for  ever  near  us  ! 


2. 

"  Mighty,  mighty  Hah-wen-ne-yo  !  thou  dost,  Spirit  purest, 

greatest ! 
Love  thine  own  Ho-de-no-sonne,  thou  as  well  their  foemen 

hatest ! 
Panther's  heart  and  eye  of  eagle,  moose's  foot  and  fox's 

cunning, 
Thou  dost  give  our   valiant  people   when  the  war-path's 

blood  is  running ; 
But  the   eye  of  owl  in  daylight,   foot  of  turtle,   heart  of 

woman, 
Stupid   brain  of  bear   in   winter,   to  our  valiant   people's 

foemen ! 
Mighty,   holy  Hah-wen-ne-yo!      Spirit  pure  and   mighty! 

hear  us ! 
We    thine    own    Ho-de-no-sonne,    wilt     thou   be    for    ever 

near  us  ! 
Yah-hah!  for  ever  near  us  !  wilt  thou  be  for  ever  near  us  !" 


VIII. 

As  ceased  the  strain,  the  warrior  band, 
Arrow  and  bow  reared  high  in  hand, 
Arranged  their  files,  and  wildly  dashed 
Into  a  dance  with  eyes  that  flashed : 
Now  toward  the  west,  and  now  o'erhead, 


KAH-KAH.  95 


Timing  their  chauntings  to  their  tread  ; 
Whilst  frequently  the  war-whoop  rung 
In  thrilling  cadence  from  their  tongue ; 
The  dull  dead  drum-stroke  sounding  low, 
Like  the  deep  distant  partridge-blow. 


IX. 

With  mingled  grace  and  dignity 

The  Atotarho  led  the  dance  ; 
To  Hah-wen-ne-yo  now  the  knee 

Bending,  with  lifted  reverent  glance, 
Now  springing  to  his  feet,  with  eye 

Fixed  where  the  sun  had  fall'n  below, 
Leaving  within  the  cloudless  sky 

A  spot  of  tenderest,  yellowest  glow. 


KAH-KAH. 

x. 

The  rite  was  o'er — the  throngs  were  gone  ; 
The  lovely  sylvan  glade  was  lone. 
Upon  the  air  a  delicate  glimmer, 
Twilight's  first  veil,  began  to  shimmer  ; 
The  sassafras  commenced  to  mingle 

With  the  soft  air-breaths  fluttering  round, 
O'erpowering,  with  its  fragrance  single, 

The  other  odors  of  the  ground ; 


96  FRONTENAC. 

Whilst  a  young  moon,  with  timid  glance, 
Looked  down  from  heaven's  undimmed  expanse , 
Her  touch  so  faint  on  all  beneath, 
It  seemed  'twould  vanish  at  a  breath. 


XI. 

Along  Kun-da-qua's*  grassy  side, 

An  arrow's  passage  from  the  glade, 
In  melting  tints  the  waters  dyed, 

The  beautiful  Jiskoko  strayed. 
Oh,  did  she  come  of  him  to  dream 
Beside  the  solitary  stream ! 
Her  sighs  to  mingle  with  the  breeze 
That  crept  so  softly  through  the  trees ! 
She  heard  the  river's  murmuring  flow, 
Filling  the  spot  with  music  low ; 
She  saw  the  branches  by  the  wind 

In  light  and  graceful  motions  moved, 
And  all  were  blended  in  her  mind 

With  him  so  fondly,  deeply  loved. 
The  sound  was  like  that  voice  her  ear 
Oft  bent  in  breathless  joy  to  hear  ; 
The  softly  swaying  branch  o'erhead 
Was  like  that  lithe  and  springing  tread  ; 
Yet  ah !  in  vain,  in  vain,  she  knew 
Love  o'er  her  heart  its  witchery  threw  ; 
The  eagle,  with  his  soaring  crest, 
Disdained  the  robin's  lowly  nest. 

*  The  On-on-dah-gah  name  for  the  On-oa-dah-gah  Hirer  or  Creek. 


KAH-KAH.  97 


XII. 


As  thus  she  mused,  from  out  the  wood 
Sudden  a  Brave  before  her  stood. 
Hatchet,  fusee,  and  knife  he  bore, 
With  the  red  cloak  his  shoulders  o'er  ; 
His  brow  was  frowning,  yet  a  smile 
Seemed  called  upon  his  face  the  while, 
Like  a  pale  straggling  moonbeam  shot 
Within  some  wild  and  gloomy  spot. 

XIII. 

She  started,  and  a  scream  suppressed, 

Then  lifted  high  her  form,  and  turned ; 
But  in  her  path,  with  laboring  breast 

And  a  fierce  eye  like  fire  that  burned, 
The  warrior  planted  firm  his  tread, 
And  in  soft  honied  accents  said  : 
"  Jiskoko  seeks  to  leave  in  fear 

One  who  has  loved  her  deep  and  long ; 
Will  ne'er  in  Kah-kah's  raptured  ear 

The  Robin  trill  responsive  song?" 
"  Has  not  Jiskoko,  Kah-kah  oft 

Told  that  she  cannot  love  ?" 

"  Her  heart 
At  Thurenserah's  glance  is  soft !" 

"  Cease,  cease,  Jiskoko  will  depart !" 
"  Not  till  she  Kah-kah  hears  ! — that  slave, 
That  Atotarho  !  that  mock  Brave  ! 
That  coward  dog  1  who  does  not  dare 


98  FRONTENAC. 

Like  us  to  leave  his  bosom  bare, 
But  ever  with  that  robe  of  white 
Keeps  it  close  hidden  from  the  sight, 
As  if  he  feared  an  eye  should  see 
The  deer-like  heart  within  him — he 
Shall  not  Jiskoko  have !" 

"  Away, 

Jiskoko  will  no  longer  stay!" 
The  warrior's  strong  grasp  stayed  her  path, 
His  shape  dilated  with  his  wrath ; 
He  clenched  his  hand  as  if  to  beat 
Her  trembling  frame  beneath  his  feet ; 
Then  swept  the  frenzied  tempest  o'er, 
And  in  soft  tones  he  spoke  once  more  : 
"  Listen!  thou  know'st  a  moon  ago 
We  young  men  went  to  strike  a  blow 
Against  the  distant  Cherokees. 
Look  !  beautiful  Jiskoko  sees 
This  little  flower  !  their  grassy  floor 
Of  open  woods  is  covered  o'er 
With  blossoms  thick  as  Night's  bright  eyes, 
And  brilliant  as  the  glorious  dyes 
Of  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  bow,  when  he 
Makes  Tah-won-ne-whus*  backward  flee. 
Their  breath  scents  every  wind  that  blows, 
Like  that  Jiskoko's  lips  unclose  ; 
The  moon  is  like  Jiskoko's  face, 

The  morn  and  eve  her  blushing  cheeks, 

*  Tah-won-ne-whus  means  "  lightning''  in  Iroquois. 


KAH-KAH.  99 

And  birds  the  hours  with  music  chase, 

Sweetly  as  that  Jiskoko  speaks ; 
Look  !  my  kah-we-yah*  floats  below, 
Jiskoko  will  with  Kah-kah  go 
To  that  bright  land." 

"  Unclasp  thy  hold, 

How  darest  thou !     Set  Jiskoko  free  ! 

She  will  not  go,  fierce  Brave,  with  thee  ! " 
"  Then  Kah-kah  takes  thee  !  "     In  the  fold 
Of  his  strong  arm  her  trembling  frame 

He  swept,  and  toward  the  river  strode. 
Jiskoko  shrieked,  and  forth  the  name 
(The  deepest  in  her  bosom  shrined, 
The  foremost  ever  in  her  mind) 

Of  Thurenserah  loudly  flowed. 


As  if  that  cry  his  presence  woke, 
Out  from  the  woods  a  figure  broke. 
One  hand  a  glittering  hatchet  clenched, 
The  shrieking  rnaid  the  other  wrenched 
From  the  base  Kah-kah,  who,  thus  foiled 
In  his  dark  purpose,  back  recoiled 
With  burning  rage,  yet  abject  dread, 
Stamped  wildly  on  his  visage  red, 
And  gazed  in  fixed  affrighted  stare 
On  Thurenserah  towering  there  ; 
Who  looked  on  him  in  turn,  his  form 
Loftily  swelling  with  a  storm 

*  Kah-we-yah,  i.  e.  "  canoe  "  in  Iroquois. 


100  FRONTENAC. 

Of  high  disdain,  yet  bursting  wrath, 
As  if  the  reptile  in  his  path 
He  *d  crush  ;  but  from  his  features  passed 
The  anger,  and  he  said  at  last, 
Lifting  his  figure  to  his  height, 
With  eye  that  shed  disdainful  light, 
And  pointing  his  contemptuous  finger 
Before  him,  "  Why  does  Kah-kah  linger  !  " 
Then  as  the  wretch  shrank,  cowering  low, 
As  if  he  would,  yet  dared  not  spring, 
He  felt  he  was  so  base  a  thing, 
The  Atotarho  uttered  "  Go !  " 
And  looked  at  him  so  stern  and  high 
That,  shuddering  from  his  searching  eye, 
The  savage  turned  ;  and  when  again, 
In  accents  of  more  deep  disdain, 
The  Atotarho  his  command 
Spoke,  sweeping  out  his  pointing  hand, 
With  a  low  cry  of  rage,  yet  mien 
Weighed  down  by  fear,  he  left  the  scene. 


xv. 

The  Atotarho,  with  a  look 

Of  deep  and  pitying  kindness,  took 

The  hand  of  the  half  shrinking  maid, 

With  pleasure  blushing,  trembling  now, 
Longing  to  thank  him,  yet  afraid 

To  lift  her  moist  eyes  to  his  brow, 
Or  speak  lest  glance  or  word  betray 
How  deep  within  her  heart  his  sway  ; 


THE    EXPEDITION.  101 


Then  left  the  river — passed  the  glade 
And  belt  of  wood — and  trod  the  maize 
By  one  of  its  four  quartering  ways 
All  steeped  in  dusk,  until  he  made 
The  glimmering  palisades — then  straight 
Both  entered  at  the  closing  gate. 


THE  EXPEDITION. 

XVI. 

Along  the  Castle's  gallery, 

Over  the  verge  of  the  rock  outspread, 
Whence  the  vision  roamed  far  and  free, 

On  passed  Frontenac's  hasty  tread. 
Back  in  golden  and  sapphire  blaze 
The  river  reflected  the  sunset  rays ; 
Beneath  were  the  roofs  of  the  warehouses,  bright 
In  straggling  and  long-reaching  pensiles  of  light, 
Though  dim  wrere  the  streets,  with  forms  dwarfed  small 
Creeping  between  the  buildings  tall ; 
Down  the  vale  of  St.  Charles  shot  a  mellow  beam, 
But  hid  in  the  depths  of  its  bed  was  the  stream ; 
Above  it  a  pinion  of  hovering  mist 
By  the  soft  yellow  sun  into  splendor  was  kissed  ; 
Between,  broad  meadow  and  level  grain 
Smiled  in  the  hour's  enchanting  reign  ; 
Whilst  on  the  basin's  lake-like  breast 
Was  the  long  spread  island  in  lustre  dressed, 
Dividing  the  flood  that  but  parted  to  meet, 
And  sink  like  a  vassal  at  Ocean's  feet. 


102  FRONTENAC. 


XVII. 

It  was  a  sweet  and  placid  hour, 

When  purest  feelings  and  thoughts  had  power, 

And  the  stern  old  soldier  felt  his  breast 

Hushing  itself  into  holy  rest ; 

But  the  cares  of  his  rule  again  bore  sway — 

The  angels  flew  from  his  fieart  away — 

A  figure  approached  him  :  "  Ha,  Lavergne  ! 

Welcome !  for  thee  is  a  duty  stern  ! 

Band  thee  together  a  hundred  men  ! 

Hasten  and  sweep  every  hill  and  glen 

Where'er  thou  canst  meet  with  the  Iroquois  foe, 

And  scourge  them  with  bloody  unsparing  blow ! 

Take  too  this  Kah-kah  to  be  thy  guide, 

The  Indian  who  joined  us  last  even-tide  ; 

I  think  we  may  trust  him !     Some  wrongs,  he  said, 

The  proud  Atotarho  had  heaped  on  his  head. 

Away,  and  when  next  thy  face  I  see, 

Thou  knowest  ivhat  tidings  will  gladden  me  ! " 


THE  BIVOUAC. 

XVIII. 

The  moon  in  glorious  beauty  glowed  ; 

The  heavens  wore  one  resplendent  sheet, 
And  her  white  lustrous  mantle  flowed 

Over  the  forests  at  her  feet. 


THE    BIVOUAC.  103 

But  only  here  and  there  a  ray 

Of  silver  pierced  a  sunken  glen 
O'erhung  by  trees,  scarce  light  by  day, 

In  which  were  hid  a  throng  of  men. 
Coureurs  de  bois  with  hunting-shirt, 

Blue-girdled  Hurons  of  Lorette, 
And  pikemen  in  their  buff-coats  girt, 

Were  in  this  gloomy  hollow  met, 
Armed  with  their  different  weapons  all, 
As  if  prepared  for  instant  call. 
A  youth  beneath  a  hemlock's  height, 
Stood  with  plumed  hat,  and  cuirass  bright, 
With  an  old  pikeman  at  his  side, 
Erect  and  grim  in  martial  pride, 
Each  viewing  the  wild  bivouac  round  ; 
Some  stretched  at  ease  upon  the  ground ; 
Some  busy  at  their  sylvan  meal  ; 
Some  causing  fragrant  wreaths  to  steal 
Their  hatchet-calumets  from  out ; 
With  others,  chattering,  grouped  about. 
At  length  he  spoke  :     "  No  more  delay, 
La  Croix !  this  moon  will  guide  our  way  ! 
We-an-dah  (such  our  captive's  name, 
Doubtless  a  chief  of  power  and  fame, 
So  high  his  pride,)  by  morning's  light 

May  by  his  tribe  be  missed,  and  thus 
Lingering  near  Thurenserah,  might 

To  my  small  force  prove  dangerous. 
And  Kah-kah  !  he  is  gone,  I  hear. 
The  dog !  his  treachery  too  I  fear  ! 


104  FRONTENAC. 

Haste,  haste  La  Croix !  prepare  the  men  ! 
This  instant  must  we  leave  the  glen." 


THE  ABDUCTION. 

XIX. 

The  same  broad  moon — night's  radiant  queen  ! 

Was  smiling  on  a  different  scene. 

The  On-on-dah-gah  maize-fields  gleamed, 

The  river  flashed,  the  woods  were  bright, 
And  the  low  rounded  lodges  seemed 

Great  silver  helmets  in  the  light ; 
Great  as  those  casques  the  forms  of  stone 
Displayed — forms  terrible,  unknown  ! 
Told  by  the  sires  with  shuddering  fright, 
That  came  in  their  destroying  might, 
Till  pitying  Hah-wen-ne-yo  cast 
Destruction  on  their  heads  at  last. 


xx. 

Within  the  slanting  picket's  shade, 
Outside  the  gate,  Jiskoko  strayed 
In  all  her  sorrowing  beauty's  pride, 
Her  friend,  O-tait-sah,*  at  her  side  ; 
In  silence  both  were  bound ; — the  one 
Was  dwelling  on  her  being's  sun, 

*  "  The  Blossom1'  in  the  On-on-dah-gah  tongue. 


THE    ABDUCTION.  105 

Whose  kind,  kind  looks  and  words,  when  last 
By  his  her  timid  footstep  passed, 
Had  deepened  love  within  her  heart, 
Which  only  could  with  life  depart ; 
With  Kah-kah  rising  like  a  cloud, 
Ever  that  hour's  sweet  light  to  shroud ; 
The  other,  in  her  sympathy, 

Mute  in  her  speech,  but  with  quick  view 
Noting  the  distant  stream — the  tree 

At  hand — the  maize — the  moon — the  dew — 
And  thinking  with  delight  perchance, 
Upon  some  future  feast-day  dance, 
Or  on  some  youth  whose  deeds  had  wove 
Around  her  heart  the  net  of  love. 

XXI. 

The  two  alone  disturbed  the  scene, 
Sleeping  beneath  the  dreamy  sheen  ; 
The  sunset  breeze  had  sank  to  rest 
Upon  the  forest's  leafy  breast ; 
Whilst  the  field-cricket's  silvery  trill 
Made  the  deep  silence  deeper  still. 

XXII. 

But  as  they  passed  a  thicket,  dashed 
An  Indian  out, — his  hatchet  flashed, — 
O-tait-sah  fell  in  blood ;— he  caught, 
Swooning  Jiskoko, — then  like  thought 
Rushed  through  the  maize,  and  struck  the  woods, 
And  skimmed  the  moonlight  solitudes 


106  FRONTENAC. 

With  a  fleet  foot  that,  as  it  sped, 

New  strength  seemed  drawing  at  each  tread, 

Till  a  short  league  had  flown,  and  then 

Entered  a  gloomy,  shaggy  glen, 

Through  a  wild  throng,  unheeding,  passed, 

Who  seemed  in  preparations  fast 

About  to  leave  the  shadowy  dell ; 

And,  striding  where  a  moonbeam  fell 

Upon  a  plumed  and  cuirassed  youth, 

"  Kah-kah,"  exclaimed,  "  would  prove  his  truth ! 

See,  Brave  of  Yon-non-de-yoh  !  here" — 

Down  placing  as  his  feet  the  maid 
Who,  now  recovering,  looked  in  fear 

Bewildered  round,  while  accents  strayed 
Hurried  and  broken  from  her  lips, 
Betokening  the  mind's  eclipse ; 
"Is  Thurenserah's  pulse  of  life!" 

Then  his  fierce  eye  more  venomous  grew, 

He  hissed  the  words  his  clenched  teeth  through, 

O      * 

"  Hooh  !     Yon-non-de-yoh  has  a  knife ! 


THE  RESCUE  AND  DEATH. 

XXIII. 

Up  Mountain  Street's  steep  winding  track, 
As  evening's  mists  began  to  curl, 

Two  of  the  guards  of  Frontenac 
Went  with  a  stag-like  Indian  girl. 


THE  RESCUE  AND  DEATH.  107 

Upon  their  left,  in  glimpses  seen, 

The  low  and  straggling  huts  between, 

The  rock,  where  stood  the  castle,  stooped 

Sheer  down,  then  sloped  with  thickets  grouped. 

The  battery  flanking  it  they  passed, 

Entered  the  Place  d'Armes  spreading  vast, 

Thence,  through  the  opened  sallyport, 

And,  crossing  the  broad  castle  court. 

Said  to  the  sentry  at  the  door, 

"  Speech  of  the  noble  Governor  1" 

XXIV. 

Within  a  room,  the  gallery  next, 

Where  hung  a  cresset  from  its  beam, 
Sat  Frontenac,  his  forehead  vexed 

With  musing,  in  the  ruddy  gleam 
That  faded  gradually  away, 

Till  lost  in  nooks  and  places  low, 
Save  where  glanced  back  by  antlers  gray, 

Or  where  a  breastplate  caught  a  glow. 
Upon  a  map  his  eye  was  placed, 
On  which  were  lakes  and  rivers  traced, 
With  Indian  trails  all  o'er  that  wound, 
And  Indian  castles  scattered  round, 
Bearing  the  well-known  names  that  showed 
There  made  the  Iroquois  abode. 

XXV. 

He  struck  the  floor — a  guardsman  came. 
"  Meux !  tell  the  Count  Lavergne  I  claim 


108  FttONTENAC. 

His  presence  here  in  two  hours'  space  ! 
And  down  once  more  he  bent  his  face. 


XXVI. 

A  rap ! — the  door  at  his  command 

Opened — the  bending  guards  there  stood, 
The  Indian  girl  erect,  at  hand, 

"  Your  errand  speak  !" 

"  Within  the  wood 
That  stretches  by  St.  Charles's  flow, 

Where  he  had  gone  to  hunt  the  deer, 
Kah-kah  was  found  an  hour  ago 

Dead,  by  the  young  Carignan  Pierre. 
Scarce  had  Pierre  told  to  us  the  tale, 

Meeting  us  by  the  water-side, 
When  o'er  the  basin,  from  a  veil 

Of  shadow  a  canoe  we  spied. 
This  Indian  girl  alone  it  bore, 
And  near  our  post  it  found  the  shore  ; 
She  Yon-non-de-yoh  sought,  she  said, 
And  here  direct  we  bent  our  tread  !" 
Frontenac  waved  his  hand — "  Depart !" 

Upon  the  girl  then  glanced  his  eye ; 
Still  reared  erect,  her  Indian  heart 

Shown  in  her  presence  proud  and  high. 
Her  features  wore  a  lighter  hue 
Than  that  her  forest  sisters  knew, 
But  her  full  eye  was  dark  and  clear 
As  the  orbed  splendors  of  the  deer. 


THE    RESCUE    AND    DEATH.  109 

From  her  dark  hair  a  feather  sprung, 
Behind,  the  usual  roller  hung  ; 
Whilst  fell  a  light  loose  dress  of  skin 
Down  to  her  broidered  moccasin. 


XX  VII. 

"  What  seek'st  thou  ?" — the  deep  voice  was  kind, 
And  slight  the  girl  her  head  inclined, 
Answering  in  tones  so  soft  and  low 
That  Frontenac  scarce  heard  their  flow, 
"  Jiskoko's  voice  is  very  sweet, 
Like  the  bird's  flight  her  gliding  feet, 
Her  eye  is  like  the  star  which  ne'er 
Moves  from  its  lodge  within  the  air : 
But  now  that  voice  no  more  is  heard 
Where  late  each  heart  to  joy  it  stirred  ; 
No  more  those  light  feet  make  the  ground 
Burst  into  laughing  flowers  around  ; 
The  eye  no  more  is  sparkling  bright, 
'Tis  filled  with  tears,  and  dark  with  night ; 
Will  not  great  Yon-non-de-yoh's  ear 
Jiskoko's  sorrowing  sister  hear  ? 
So  great  a  warrior  will  not  keep 
The  fawn  to  tremble  and  to  weep  ! 
He  will  not  let  the  Robin's  trill 
Be  longer  moan  of  whippoorwill ! 
No  !  he  '11  restore  the  bird  its  tree, 
He  '11  set  the  poor  Jiskoko  free  !" 
"  Never  !"  fierce  shouted  Frontenac, 
Whilst  his  eye  flashed,  his  brow  grew  black, 
6 


110  FRONTENAC. 

"  Girl !  daughter  of  a  hated  race  I 
How  hast  thou  dared  to  seek  this  place  ! 
How,  bold  one,  how  !  art  not  afraid  ? 

Thou  seek'st  thy  sister!  know'st  not  thou 
That  Thurenserah  loves  the  maid  ? 

The  dog !  who,  could  I  clutch  him  now, 
I  'd  tread  beneath  my  feet,  and  make 
His  death-song  echo  at  the  stake  !" 
A  wild  light  glanced  his  features  o'er, 
And  sternly  stamped  he  on  the  floor, 
Whilst  the  girl's  eye  with  sidewise  lift 
Glared  with  a  furious  fire,  and  swift 
Glided  her  hand  within  her  dress. 
Downcast  the  eye,  hand  motionless 
Again,  as  Frontenac  his  glance 
Turned  once  more  on  her  countenance : 
"  But  yet  I  will  not  harm  thee,  girl !" 
His  eye  grew  soft,  his  features  caught 
A  shade  of  pensive  struggling  thought : 
"  There  's  something  that  subdues  the  whirl 
Of  passion  in  me  as  I  gaze, 
Leading  me  back  to  former  days  !" 
"Then  Yon-non-de-yoh  will  set  free 
Jiskoko  !"  flashed  the  wild  fire  back 
Into  the  face  of  Frontenac  : 
"  Not  till  thy  Atotarho's  knee 
Is  bent,  acknowledging  my  sway  L" 

Again  the  maiden's  cowering  eye 
Shot  its  keen,  furtive,,  sidewise  ray 

Like  some  fierce  serpent's  crawling  nigh  ; 


THE    RESCUE    AND    DEATH.  Ill 

Again  within,  quick  glanced  her  hand, 
Then  all  once  more  was  still  and  bland  :     • 
"  My  Canada  father  then  will  let 

Jo-gwe-yoh  on  Jiskoko  look  !  " 
Frontenac's  eye  the  maiden's  met, 

The  wrath  his  face  once  more  forsook  ; 
His  dirk  a  cuirass  struck — with  speed 

Entered  a  guard — with  softened  tone  : 
"  This  maiden  to  Jiskoko  lead, 

Let  them  remain  an  hour  alone  ! ' 


XXVIII. 

The  guardsman  through  the  gallery  led, 

Until  he  reached  and  oped  a  door, 
And  when  passed  in  the  maiden's  tread, 

He  locked  and  barred  it  as  before. 
Jiskoko  on  a  couch  was  leaning, 
Her  long  black  hair  her  features  screening  ; 
A  single  lamp  with  feeble  light 
Yielding  the  bleak  bare  walls  to  sight ; 
But  as  the  maid  with  noiseless  tread 
Approached,  and  soft  "Jiskoko!"  said, 
Up  to  her  feet  she  instant  sprung 
With  a  wild  cry  upon  her  tongue  ; 
Amazement,  deep  amazement  took 
Possession  of  her  staring  look  ; 
Then  joy  in  brightest  flash  shot  o'er 
Her  face,  and  then  a  blush  it  bore, 
A  blush  so  deep,  brow,  neck,  and  breast 
The  rich  and  radiant  tint  confessed  ; 


112  FRONTENAC. 

She  trembled,  shrank,  as  half  afraid, 
When  took  her  timid  hand  the  maid  ; 
Her  bosom  heaved  with  quick  delight, 
Then  down  she  dropped  her  sparkling  sight, 
With  heart  and  soul  all  wrapped  to  hear 
The  low  tones  whispering  in  her  ear  : 
"  Listen  !  when  Kah-kah's  hatchet  fell !  " 
(Jiskoko  here  suppressed  a  cry.) 
"  Thy  friend,  the  Blossom,  did  not  die 
At  once — she  lived  her  tale  to  tell. 
(By  her  poor  sorrowing  mother  found, 
At  morn  stretched  bleeding  on  the  ground.) 
Ka-hais-kah*  on  a  deer's  trail, — then 
Saw  thee  with  Yon-non-de-yoh's  men  ; 
With  speedy  foot  and  heart  in  flame, 
Hither  the  Atotarho  came 
Garbed  as  thou  see'st  him,  with  a  band 
Of  his  best  Braves  to  aid  his  hand. 
He  met  the  base  dog  Kah-kah, — low 
He  brought  him  with  one  hatchet-blow ; 
But  e'er  black  Hah-no-gah-ate-gehf 
Bade  the  foul  spirit  to  him  flee, 
The  Atotarho  made  him  tell 
Where  was  the  sorrowing  Robin's  cell ; 
And,  now  the  Atotarho's  here, 
Jiskoko  will  no  longer  fear  ; 
Ere  Kah-qua|  brings  another  day, 


*  Ka-hais-kah  means  "the  Arrow"  in  On-on-dah-gah. 
fThe  "Evil  Spirit"  in  On-on-dah-gah. 
i  Kah-qua  "  the  Sun"  in  On-on-dah-gah. 


THE    RESCUE    AND    DEATH.  113 

"With  Thurenserah,  far  away 

"Will  fly  the  Robin,  and  again 

Will  On-on-dah-gah  list  her  strain  !  " 

XXIX. 

Jiskoko  listened, — every  word 
Delicious  joy  within  her  stirred  ; 
That  he,  the  Atotarho,  he 

The  worshipped  of  her  every  thought, 
Should  dare  so  much  to  set  her  free, 

Perilling  life  ; — her  heart  was  fraught 
With  deeper,  tenderer  love,  imbued 
With  warmer,  holier  gratitude. 
Ah,  did  he  also  love  !  her  eye 

Was  raised  a  moment  to  his  face, 
But  glowing  kindness,  with  a  sigh, 

She  there  could  only,  only  trace  ; 
The  same  that  always  lit  his  brow, 
But  sweeter,  stronger,  livelier  now  ! 
Away  with  him — she  did  not  ask 

The  means — she  knew,  fond  maid,  she  knew 

That  Thurenserah  told  her  true  ; 
He  would  perform  his  promised  task, 
And  nerved  to  strength  her  drooping  frame, 
To  act  when  time  for  action  came. 

• 

XXX. 

The  warrior  oped  his  dress,  unwound 
A  deer-skin  line  of  braided  strength 
Knotted  to  scores  of  feet  in  length, 


114  FRONTENAC. 

Close  swathed  his  slender  form  around ; 
Then  grasping  it  in  folds,  he  drew 

His  knife,  approached  the  massive  door, 
And  stood  ;  the  faint  lamp  fainter  grew, 

At  last  its  flickering  light  gave  o'er  ; 
A  plaintive  wind  commenced  to  sweep, 
The  room  was  filled  with  darkness  deep, 
Save  where  the  loopholes,  pierced  on  high, 
Let  in  some  glimmerings  of  the  sky. 


XXXI. 

At  length  they  glared,  and  fell  the  bar, 

Quick  rattled  in  the  lock  the  key, 
Opened  the  door  with  sullen  jar, 
A  gasp — a  fall — and  instantly 
The  Atotarho,  with  a  stamp, 
Extinguished  the  slain  guardsman's  lamp  ; 
Across  the  jutting  gallery  thence 
Drew  him  with  hurried  violence  ; 
And,  heaving  with  convulsive  strength, 
Lifted  him  o'er  the  rails  at  length, 
Into  the  chasm, — one  murky  frown, — 
Then  pitched  the  body  headlong  down, 
Lashed  to  the  rails  the  line,  and  then 
Rushect  to  Jiskoko's  side  again. 
He  took  the  maiden's  hand  :  "  Fear  not !  " 
He  said,  then  bore  her  from  the  spot. 
"  Now  cling  to  me  !  "     The  maiden  clung, 
And  soon  upon  the  line  they  swung  ; 


THE  RESCUE  AND  DEATH.  115 

The  trembling  girl  gave  one  swift  glance — 

Round  was  a  rainy  black  expanse ; 

Above,  dark  outlines  on  the  air 

Told  that  the  castle's  moss  was  there ; 

Near  to  the  left,  with  shuddering  awe 

The  battery's  frowning  line  she  saw, 

The  muzzles  filled  she  knew  with  death, 

And  scarce  she  drew  her  very  breath  ; 

By  swept  the  wind  with  rushing  sound, 
Dashing  the  rain  upon  their  forms, 
In  one  of  May's  most  furious  storms, 

Far  swung  they  out,  swift  whirled  they  round; 

She  closed  her  eyes  again,  her  cling 

Drawn  closer  with  each  whirl  and  swing; 

And  yet,  e'en  yet,  her  sore  affright 

Yielding  at  times  to  wild  delight, 

Though  blushing  shame,  that  she,  most  blest, 

Was  clinging,  clinging  to  his  breast. 

Down  still,  nought  hearing  but  the  wind ; 

Still  down,  down  through  the  darkness  blind  ; 

At  last  they  touched  the  lesser  steep, 

Where  scarcely  could  Jiskoko  keep 

Her  foothold,  though  her  stumbling  tread 

Was  by  the  Atotarho  led, 

And  slowly  worked  their  laboring  way 

Down  the  rough  sloping  rocks  that  lay 

Toward  the  dim  huts  in  straggling  rank, ' 

Between  them  and  the  river  bank. 

The  shrieking,  howling,  sweeping  blast, 
The  rain  in  dashes  on  it  cast, 
Keeping  beneath  each  reeking  roof 


116  FRONTENAC, 

All  from  the  miry  street  aloof. 
Reaching  the  marge,  the  warrior  drew 
Out  of  the  thickets  a  canoe, 
And,  placing  quick  within  the  maid, 
The  paddle  seized  ;  but  e'er  the  blade 
The  water  struck,  he  glanced  around, 
His  ear  bent  down — no  sight,  no  sound, 
But  the  slant  rain,  the  dwellings  grouped, 
And  blast  like  that  a  warrior  whooped. 
He  stood  an  instant — muttered  low, 
"  Should  Thurenserah  strike  the  blow 
To  Yon-non-de-yoh's  heart,  how  high 

Would  rise  the  League's  triumphant  head 
How  Hah-wen-ne-yo  from  his  sky, 

His  glorious  smiles  would  on  us  shed ! 
He  '11  go  !  but  yet" — he  looked  to  where 
The  maiden  sat — "  she  claims  my  care ! 
Still  did  not  Yon-non-de-yoh  boast, 
That  underneath  his  feet  he  'd  tread 
Me,  Thurenserah  !  me,  a  Brave  !" 
His  knife  here  glittered  in  the  wave. 
"  The  Atotarho  of  the  dread 
And  proud  Ho-do-no-sonne  host ! 
He'll  go  !  the  Robin  will  not  wait, 

But  seek  the  other  side — she  '11  find 
There  well-known  braves.     Let  Te-yo-ayt* 

Bring  the  canoe  again  :  the  wind 
Has  ceased,  its  rush  of  fury  o'er  !" 
He  said  and  bounded  from  the  shore. 

»  Light. 


THE    RESCUE    AND    DEATH.  117 

XXXII. 

On  midst  the  scattered  roofs  he  went, 
Lights,  sparkling  in  the  casements,  lent 
Quick  gleamings  to  the  rainy  street, 
But  none  were  there  to  stay  his  feet. 
Winged  with  fierce  speed  he  shot  along, 

Whilst  a  low  cabin  here  and  there 
Gave  forth  some  swinging  hunter-song, 

With  shout  and  laughter  on  the  air. 

XXXIII. 

He  clambered  up  the  bushy  steep, 
With  tug  and  scramble,  pull  and  leap. 
Until  he  reached  the  cliff  he  found 

The  line  still  swinging  in  the  blast ; 
Around  a  rock  its  end  he  wound, 

Knotting  the  yielding  texture  fast, 
And  then  with  Indian  skill  and  strength, 
Commenced  to  climb  its  slender  length. 
He  saw  a  black  stripe  drawn  on  air : 
The  battery's  dreaded  guns  were  there, 
Which  into  death-winged  lightning  broke, 
And  with  stern  voice  of  thunder  spoke  ; 
The  wind  but  uttered  feeble  howl, 
But  still  the  heavens  showed  sable  scowl, 
And  the  rain  beat.     Up,  up  he  went, 
His  steady  eye  above  him  bent, 
Foothold  receiving  from  the  knots 
Set  on  the  line  in  bulging  spots. 
The  castle  blackened  now  the  air, 
6* 


118  FRONTENAC. 

But  one  bright  spot  was  glittering  there  ; 
It  shone  in  that  same  room  where  he 
Stood  by  his  hated  enemy, 
And  heard  those  threats  that  made  his  ire 
Blaze  into  fierce  though  smothered  fire. 
Still  up  he  went ;  the  gallery  now 
Broke  forth,  then  level  with  his  brow ; 
Over  the  rails  he  leaped — his  tread 
Skimmed  now  the  space  beneath  him  spread  ; 
He  glanced  within  the  casement,  there 
Frontenac  with  his  face  of  care 
Over  the  map  still  bowed  his  frame  ; 
He  struck  the  door,  the  bidding  came  ; 
He  entered.     "  Ha  !  again,  sweet  maid  !" 

Said  Frontenac  with  rising  glow. 

The  Indian  crouched  his  figure  low, 
As  doth  the  panther  when  arrayed 
For  his  dread  leap  upon  his  prey. 
"  Did  not  great  Yon-non-de-yoh  say 
That  he  would  underneath  his  feet 

The  Atotarho  tread  ?     Hooh  !  look  ! 
I  am  the  Atotarho  !"     Fleet 

As  a  deer's  bound  his  leap  he  took 
Full  at  the  throat  of  Frontenac  ; 

But  e'r  the  destined  blow  could  fall, 

A  form,  unseen  before,  with  call 
For  help  loud  ringing,  thrust  him  back, 
And  drew  a  sword,  whilst  to  the  hand 
Of  Frontenac  found  ready  brand. 
The  Indian  gave  one  cry  of  wrath 
When  thrust  thus  backward  in  his  path  ; 


THE  RESCUE  A\D  DEATH.  119 

Then,  with  a  face  all  flame  that  grew, 

Leaped  like  a  wild  cat  on  the  two, 

With  gnashing  teeth  and  glaring  eye, 

And  knife  and  hatchet  flourished  high  ; 

Frontenac's  thrust  he  parried,  stayed 

The  other's  quick  descending  blade. 

With  furious  violence  for  life, 

Here — there — all  round — now  raged  the  strife ; 

The  Indian's  form  seemed  plumed  with  wings, 

So  swift  his  rushings,  high  his  springs  ; 

In  flashes  of  quick  light,  his  blows 

He  rained  upon  his  pressing  foes, 

Till,  in  his  blind  haste,  Frontenac 

Stumbled  and  headlong  past  him  fell. 

The  savage  gave  one  smothered  yell, 
And,  as  the  other  crossed  his  track, 
Sank  his  keen  hatchet  in  his  head, 
And  toward  the  Yon-non-de-yoh  sped  ; 
But  wide  an  inner  door  now  swung, 
And  in  the  room  two  guardsmen  sprung. 
The  Atotarho  wheeled  and  flew 
Like  light  the  outer  portal  through ; 
Swift  to  the  gallery's  end  he  went, 
And  down  the  line  commenced  descent, 
His  knife  between  his  teeth,  and  slung 

His  tomahawk  upon  his  arm  ; 
But  as  in  middle  air  he  swung, 

The  castle  bell  rang  out  alarm. 
Stern  clanged  the  tones  along  the  air  ; 

Down  past  him  dropped  a  torch's  light 
Tossed  from  the  gallery ;  quick  a  glare 


120  FRONTENAC. 

Burst  from  the  battery  on  his  sight, 
Smiting  into  a  splendor  keen 
All  the  stern  features  of  the  scene  : 
Instant  a  ball  above  him  screeched — 

Echoed  a  deep  and  stunning  roar ; 

Still  down,  still  down  he  gliding  bore, 

But  now  the  line  was  severed  o'er, 
And  with  slight  shock  the  slope  he  reached. 

xxxiv. 

Out  still  the  bell's  stern  clangor  rung, 
As  down  the  slope  himself  he  flung  ; 
Before,  amidst  the  scattered  way 
Of  roofs^  through  which  his  pathway  lay, 
He  heard  loud  calls,  and  saw  the  glow 
Of  torches  passing  to  and  fro. 
He  paused — long,  deep,  full  breaths  he  drew, 
His  knife  and  hatchet  grasped  anew  ; 
Then,  like  an  eagle  in  its  wrath, 
He  dashed  along  his  forward  path. 
Hurrying  and  bustling  forms  were  there, 
Scores  of  red  torches  fired  the  air, 
Gleaming  on  halberd,  gun  and  knife, 
Hastily  snatched  for  unknown  strife  ; 
The  coureur  wild,  the  keen-eyed  scout, 
Hunter,  batteauman,  trader,  all 
The  dwellers  of  the  suburb,  call 
On  one  another,  peer  about, 
Wondering  what  enemy  so  bold 
The  castle's  tongue  of  iron  told 
Within  their  strong  and  guarded  hold. 


THE  RESCUE  AND  DEATH.  121 


XXXV. 

Near  and  more  near,  with  flying  frame, 
The  fierce  and  desperate  Indian  came ; 
Near  and  more  near,  each  sinew  strung, 
Each  thought  on  fire,  still,  still  he  sprung, 
And  now  within  the  space  he  rushed 
Where  bright  the  flaring  torches  blushed  ; 
Shouts  rang  out  boldly  on  the  night, 
And  gathered  all  to  bar  his  flight. 
Swinging  his  weapon  right  and  left, 

On,  on,  the  Atotarho  dashed. 
Amidst  the  crowd  his  path  he  cleft, 

Forms  dropped,  cries  pealed,  and  weapons  clashed, 
On,  on,  the  Atotarho  on, 

Right,  left,  his  weapons  swinging  yet, 

And,  ere  a  blow  his  form  had  met, 
His  pathway  through  the  throng  was  won. 
On,  on  the  Atotarho  still 

There  was  his  bark,  a  figure  light, 
With  vigorous  and  determined  will, 

Grasping  the  margin  bushes  tight, 
The  buoyant  basswood  shape  to  keep 
Steady  for  the  approaching  leap. 
With  one  keen  whoop  the  leap  he  takes, 
The  slight  kah-we-yah  rocks  and  shakes ; 
He  grasps  the  paddles — from  his  bow 

Swifter  his  arrow  never  flew, 
Than  o'er  the  Cataraqui's  flow 

Shot  Thurenserah's  winged  canoe. 


122  FKONTENAC. 

But  quick  a  rifle  rang — with  cry 
Jiskoko  dropped — a  gasp  a  sigh. 
Poor  loving  maid  !  poor  loving  maid ! 
His  mandate  she  had  not  obeyed, 
But  with  an  anxious  heart  had  staid 
The  watch  herself  for  him  to  keep, 
Poor  loving  maid !  to  look  and  weep, 
Alive  to  every  sound  and  sight, 
Hearing  the  tumult  with  affright ; 
And  Thurenserah,  as  the  bark 
Turned  round  Cape  Diamond's  profile  dark, 
Projecting  boldly  from  the  beach, 
Where  not  a  shot  the  place  could  reach, 
Beheld,  as  down  he  bent  his  head, 
By  the  faint  radiance  of  the  stars 
From  the  rent  storm's  swift  floating  bars, 
But  the  locked  features  of  the  dead. 


END    OF    CANTO    FOURTH. 


CANTO  FIFTH. 


THE  INN  OF  THE 

CANOE. 
WE-AN-DAH. 


THE  SUMMONS. 
THE  ENCAMPMENT. 
THE  MARCH. 


CANTO  FIFTH. 


THE  INN  OF  THE  CANflE. 


AT  the  rude  suburb's  western  end 

A  little  inn  of  logs  was  set, 
"Where  oft,  a  social  hour  to  spend, 

Batteaumen,  hunters,  coureurs  met. 
Above  the  porch,  in  rough  daubed  hue, 
Outside  was  painted  a  canoe  ; 
Within,  a  table  stretched  mid  floor, 

With  benches  ranged  at  either  side  ; 
Whilst  shelves,  in  one  paled  corner,  bore 

Flagons  in  glittering  tints  that  vied. 
The  carcass  of  a  slaughtered  deer 

Carelessly  at  one  side  was  flung ; 
A  bow,  a  pouch ,  a  fishing-spear 

And  Indian  paddle,  round  were  hung. 
As  afternoon  its  shadows  wrought, 
The  customed  throng  the  tavern  sought ; 
The  coureur  rude,  his  coarse  blue  check 
Spread  from  his  bare  and  sunburnt  neck  ; 
The  hunter  in  his  green-fringed  skirt, 

To  match  the  forest  leaves  in  hue  ; 


126  FRONTENAC. 

And  the  batteauman  in  his  shirt 

Of  red,  and  tassel  led  cap  of  blue. 
Glasses  were  in  each  hand,  whilst  rung 
In  loud  confusion  every  tongue. 


n. 

"  Ho,  BceufF !"  a  coureur  said,  "  how  now  ? 
Why  dost  trfou  show  so  grave  a  brow  ? 
A  moon  ago  I  saw  thee  track 

The  Huron  Islands — thy  canoe 

Heaped  up  with  blankets,  and  thy  crew 
So  jovial !     Did  the  Hurons  back 
Without  a  barter  turn  thee  ?" 

"No! 

But  when  their  usual  haunt  I  gained, 
The  Bell-rock,  empty  huts  to  show 

Where  they  had  been  alone  remained. 
At  last,  as  close  «we  searched  about, 

We  found  an  aged  sire  ;  he  said, 

Whilst  shook  his  aged  frame  with  dread, 
That  the  fierce  Iroquois  were  out 
Upon  the  war-path,  and  were  near, 
And  off  his  tribe  had  fled  in  fear. 
He  told  us  then  to  strike  the  rock, 

And,  short  time  after,  to  its  sound, 

Sending  o'er  isle  and  wave  its  swell, 
We  saw  the  frightened  warriors  flock 

From  all  the  neighboring  coverts  round, 

Their  safety-sign  that  rocky  bell. 
To  quiet  then  their  fears  we  tried, 


THE    INN    OF    THE    CANOE.  127 

But  from  their  hearts  had  vanished  pride  : 

And  finding  talk  of  barter  vain, 

We  with  our  load  turned  back  again!" 

"  And  others,"  a  batteauman  said, 

"  Can  of  the  Iroquois  own  dread  ! 

Late  at  the  setting  of  the  sun, 

Within  the  Thousand  Islands  Lake, 
Our  crew  had  landed  upon  one, 

Our  fires  to  light  and  suppers  take  ; 
But  e'er  we  !d  struck  a  flint  in  brush, 
I  chanced  to  look  between  a  bush, 
And  there  I  saw  a  great  canoe 
Filled  with  the  fiends  swift  paddling  through. 
With  Thurenserah  casting  look, 

The  curst  young  Atotarho !  round  ; 
Close  our  batteau  was  in  a  nook, 

But  never  gave  we  sight  or  sound, 
And  the  whole  band  passed  through  the  same, 
In  wisdom  as  the  demons  came  !" 
"  How  strange  that  Bell-rock.     Oft  I  've  heard" — 
Thus  thrust  another  in  his  word  : 
"  The  Hurons  say,  a  towering  form 

Is  seen  beside,  it    stand  to  take, 
Foretelling,  though  the  winds  are  warm, 
And  skies  are  blue,  that  some  fierce  storm 

Upon  the  scene  is  soon  to  break  ; 
And  then  he  wakes  a  sound  so  clear 
And  loud,  it  pierces  every  ear  ; 

Warning  his  children  on  the  wave 
To  hasten  homeward,  ere  the  blast 


128  FRONTENAC. 

Upon  their  lingering  barks  is  cast, 

Too  quick  and  fierce  for  skill  to  save. 
But  I  have,  comrades  !  heard  its  tone 

When  up  the  thunderstorm  was  coming, 
And  paddling  near,  have  seen  some  crone 

Or  sire  upon  it  loudly  drumming : 
And,  for  that  matter,  I  its  sound 
Have  heard  when  not  a  cloud  I  found, 
And  when,  for  days  succeeding,  nought 
Of  storm  the  soft  bright  weather  brought !" 
Exclaimed  a  hunter,  "  As  I  went 

Basquet !  along  St.  Charles's  side 
This  morn,  I  saw  thy  rifle  bent 

To  shoulder." 

"  A  huge  panther  died 
Beneath  my  aim,  whose  whine  all  night 
Plunged  me,  the  beast !  in  sleepless  plight. 
Fiends  are  these  Indians  to  the  core  !" 
Spoke  the  batteauman  giving  o'er 
A  draught,  and  deeply  breathing — "  Hush  ! 
We-an-dah  there  is  lying  !" — 

"Tush 

For  him,  the  drunken  wretch  !  so  low 
He  's  fall'n,  he  's  man  no  longer  !  ho  ! 
Here  's  drink  for  thee,  We-an-dah  !  sleep 
No  more  !"     With  swiftest,  eagerest  leap, 
An  Indian  left  a  nook,  and  flew 
To  where  the  glass  was  held  to  view. 
Quickly  the  rosy  stream  he  quaffed, 
Then  with  delirious  pleasure  laughed. 


THE    INN    OF    THE    CANOE.  129 

"  Good,  good,  fire-water  's  good  !" — his  clutch 
Another  cup  held  toward  him  gained, 
And  then  a  third  one  wild  he  drained — 
"  We-an-dah  loves  the  Pale-face  much  !" 
Then  staggering  back,  his  knife  he  drew, 
And  in  a  dance  his  limbs  he  threw, 
Whilst  the  rough  concourse  round  him  stood 
And  mocked  him  in  their  reckless  mood  ; 
"  See  !  ha  !  ha  !  see  him  as  he- bounds  ! 
And  hark  !  his  war-whoop  now  he  sounds  ! 
Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  mark  him  reel !  look,  Fleer  ! 
Look,  Vans  !  a  great  Brave  have  we  here  ! 
A  valiant  warrior !  hear  him  shout, 
'  More,  more  fire  water !'  Give  it  out, 
Good  landlord  !  fill  it  to  the  brim. 

It  vanishes  at  his  lips  as  fast 

As  rain-drops  on  the  water  cast, 
Ah  !  that  has  proved  too  much  for  him  !" 
And  headlong  on  the  floor  he  fell 
Stretched  out,  relaxed,  insensible  ; 
And  as  beneath  their  feet  he  lay, 
They  spurned  him  to  a  nook  away. 
Ah,  forest  Chieftain  !  noble  Brave  ! 

Wert  thou,  indeed,  so  mean  a  thing  ! 
Better  have  filled  a  warrior's  grave, 

Thou  Eagle  with  a  broken  wing ! 


in. 

Now,  round  the  table,  each  one  held 
A  goblet,  whilst  a  coureur  swelled 


130  FRONTENAC. 

His  rough,  free  song,  all  joining  in 
The  chorus  with  tumultuous  din. 

"  Over  the  waters  now  we  dash, 

Ever  sing  merrily,  boys,  sing  merrily  ! 
Ripples  around  our  paddles  flash, 
Onward  so  merrily,  thus  go  we  ! 
Round  let  the  bowl  fly, 

Quaff,  boys,  quaff! 
Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  ha  ! 
Laugh,  boys,  laugh !" 

A  hunter  then  took  up  the  strain, 
And  pealed  it  till  all  rang  again. 

"  Through  the  thick  forests  now  we  tread, 

Ever  sing  merrily,  boys,  sing  merrily ! 
Crack  goes  the  rifle !  the  game  falls  dead, 
Onward  then  merrily,  thus  go  we  ! 
Round  let  the  bowl  fly, 

Quaff,  boys,  quaff! 
Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  ha  ! 
Laugh,  boys,  laugh  !" 

Then  a  batteauman  passed  the  song, 
Rolling  a  volume  full  along. 

"  Up,  up  the  waters  pole  we  now, 
Ever  sing  merrily,  boys,  sing  merrily ! 

Tramp,  tramp,  tramp  on  each  side  of  our  prow, 
Onward  so  merrily,  thus  go  we  ! 


WE-AN-I>AH.  131 

Round  let  the  bowl  fly, 

Quaff,  boys,  quaff! 
Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Laugh,  boys,  laugh  I" 

And  then  all  joined  their  tones  so  deep, 
The  very  glasses  seemed  to  leap. 

"  Thus  with  our  paddle,  our  rifle,  and  pole, 

Ever  sing  merrily,  boys,  sing  merrily 
We  go  through  life,  with  the  grave  for  our  goal, 
Onward  so  merrily,  thus  go  we  ! 
Round  let  the  bowl  fly, 

Quaff,  boys,  quaff ! 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

Laugh,  boys,  laugh  I" 


WE-AN-DAH, 

IV. 

Frontenac,  in  his  usual  room, 

Sat  with  a  brow  of  deepened  gloom  : 

June's  sunshine  lay  upon  the  floor, 

Through  the  oped  casement  came  the  breeze, 
And  the  broad  transverse  gallery  o'er 

He  saw  the  distant  tops  of  trees. 
A  dark  ancestral  portrait  glowed 


132  FRONTENAC. 

As,  searching  out  each  hidden  dye, 
The  sunlight  o'er  the  surface  flowed, 

And  woke  to  life  brow,  cheek,  and  eye. 
Beside  a  table  where  he  sat, 
A  wolf-hound  crouched  upon  a  mat, 
Whilst  parchments,  maps,  and  volumes  lay 
Around  in  negligent  array. 


v. 

At  length  he  rose,  his  threshold  passed, 
And  on  the  gallery  stood,  where  vast 
The  prospect  opened  to  his  view, 
Steeped  in  the  sunshine's  golden  hue. 
Beneath  him  was  the  chasm  of  air 

Where  the  cliff  fell ;  thence  sloped  the  steep, 
Rocky  and  grouped  with  thickets,  where 

Browsed  the  quick  goats  with  many  a  leap. 
The  lower  city's  chimneys  rose 

Along  the  marge  in  long  array, 
Whilst,  in  its  calm  and  smooth  repose, 

Like  air  the  broad  curved  river  lay. 
A  brigantine  was  creeping  round, 
With  its  one  sail,  Cape  Diamond's  bound  ; 
By  Orleans'  Island  a  batteau 
Was,  like  a  lazy  spider,  slow 
Crawling — the  boatmen,  spots  of  red, 
Pushing  their  poles  of  glimmering  thread, 
Whilst  field,  roof,  forest  filled  his  gaze, 
Till  vanishing  in  the  soft  gray  haze. 


YVE-AN-DAH.  133 


VI, 

But  nought  was  there  to  charm  his  eye, 

His  mind  gave  darkness  to  the  sky ; 

A  brooding  shade  was  o'er  the  scene, 

So  glorious  in  its  summer  mien. 

Again  his  gloomy  room  he  sought. 

His  brow  o'erspread  with  drearier  thought : — 

"  Poor,  poor  Lavergue  !  poor  youth  !  that  he 

Should  die,  brave  boy  !  defending  me  I 

And  by  that  bloody  demon  too ! 

That  Thurenserah  !  " — Deeper  hue 

Fell  on  his  visage  like  a  pall. 

"  The  sire,  and  now  the  son,  to  fall 

Beneath  the  tomahawk  !  " — Again 

That  dark  deed  of  the  distant  past 

Was  on  his  shuddering  memory  cast  ! 
Lavergne's  dead  form — his  harrowing  pain — 
His  loneliness — the  evening  gloom 
Darkening  within  this  self-same  room — 
The  lost  Lucille — that  radiant  child  ! 

And  she,  the  young,  the  perished  mother, 
Loved  with  such  depth  of  passion  wild, 

Slain,  slain,  and,  heaven  !  by  her  own  brother. 
And  he  an  Iroquois  !     That  trick 
Of  Thurenserah's  too !     Thus  mocked  ! 
Cheated  1     Jiskoko's  cell  unlocked 
Before  his  very  eyes,  and  he 
Attacked  by  his  fierce  enemy 
In  his  own  room. — "  Without  there,  ho  !  " 
7 


134  FRONTENAC. 

A  guard  obeyed.     "  Ta-wen-deh,  quick  !  " 
The  usual  strides  went  to  and  fro 
Until  the  Huron  runner  came. 
"Ta-wen-deh!" — with  an  eye  of  flame — 
"  Thy  foot  be  now  the  eagle's  wing  ! 
Take  the  war-wampum  !  my  command 
Bear,  that  the  hatchet  through  the  land 
Unburied  be  against  my  foe,. 
The  Iroquois !     This  arm  shall  bring 
At  last  these  haughty  nations  low  !  " 
Ta-wen-deh  vanished,  and  once  more 
His  tread  he  to  the  gallery  bore. 


VII, 

At  length  in  Mountain  Street  he  spied 

We-an-dah,  with  his  sauntering  stride. 

Across  him  seemed  to  flash  a  thought ; 
His  room  regained  he.     "  Ho,  Allaire  !  " 
Again  the  guardsman  entered  there. 

"  Haste  !  let  We-an-dah  here  be  brought !  " 


VIII. 

The  Indian  came — his  flushed  swoll'n  face 
Of  deep  debauch  showed  wildest  trace. 
His  scalp-lock  down  neglected  hung  ; 
Round  him  a  blanket  soiled  was  flung  ; 
His  once  rich  leggings  now  were  torn ;. 
His  moecasms  to  tatters  worn  ; 
Ah,  forest  Chieftain  !  noble  Brave  !' 
Wert  thou,  indeed,  so  mean  a  thing  T 


\VE-AN-DAH.  135 


Better  have  filled  a  warrior's  grave, 
Thou  Eagle  with  a  broken  wing  ! 


IX. 

'Twas  but  one  fleeting  wreek  ago 

That,  capturing  him  in  chase,  Lavergne 
To  Frontenac  the  Chief  had  brought, 
Soaring  in  soul,  unbowed  in  thought, 
Reared  before  Yon-non-de-yoh  stern 
And  fierce,  a  foe,  a  fearless  foe  ! 
Taunting  him  as  a  Brave  should  taunt, 
A  Brave  whom  danger  ne'er  could  daunt. 
Yea !  hurling  scorn,  as  if  he  stood 
Within  his  native  forest,  free, 
Frontenac  captive  at  his  side, 
Showing,  through  all,  such  glorious  pride, 
That  Thurenserah's  self,  had  he 

Been  in  his  place,  had  not  defied 
With  sterner,  higher,  haughtier  mood 
Or  loftier  wrath,  his  enemy. 


x. 

That  very  night,  as  with  his  wound 

Lavergne's  sword  gave  him  in  the  fray, 
Fainting  within  his  cell  he  lay, 
The  guardsman,  as  his  hurt  he  bound, 
Offered,  alas  !  the  fatal  draught, 
Which  for  the  first  time  now  he  quaffed. 
As  the  fell  fire  within  him  ran, 


136  FRONTENAC. 

He  sank  at  once  to  less  than  man  ; 
He  chattered  in  delirious  glee 
Amidst  his  feverish  agony ; 
And,  as  the  first  delicious  glow 
He  felt,  first  poison  of  the  foe  ! 
He  thought  the  white  man,  that  could  make 
Such  draught  as  this,  his  thirst  to  slake, 
Had  greater  power  and  skill  to  lift 
The  soul  on  soaring  wing,  than  even 
Great  Hah-wen-ne-yo,  who  had  given 
Only  his  tame  and  tasteless  gift. 
Hour  after  hour  he  drank  the  flame  ; 
More  strong  the  horrid  thirst  became  ; 
More  eager  did  he  grasp  the  bowl ; 
Deeper  and  deeper  sank  his  soul ; 
Whilst  Frontenac,  with  scornful  smile, 
Marking  by  what  a  weapon  he 
Could  strike  down  his  red  enemy, 
One  of  the  hated  race,  in  guile 
Hour  after  hour  the  stream  supplied, 
Then  for  a  time  withheld  the  tide, 
Until  the  Brave  !  the  warrior  proud  ! 
The  strong- winged  Eagle  of  the  cloud ! 
An  On-on-dah-gah  ! — he  that  late 
Dared  Yon-non-de-yoh  in  his  state, 
And  would  have  strode  to  fiery  death 
With  the  stern  war-song  on  his  breath, 
He,  he  ;  oh,  shame !  oh,  shame  !  subdued  ! 
Slave-like  !  scourged  hound-like !  lowly  sued 
At  the  contemptuous  guardsman's  foot,] 
That  Yon-non-de-yoh  still  should  give 


WE-AN-DAH.  137 

The  stream  by  which  he  ceased  to  live, 
Save  as  an  abject,  grovelling  brute, 
Till  Frontenac,  in  deep  disdain, 
Yielded  the  devilish  draught  again, 
And,  in  pure  scorn  then  made  him  free 
To  roam  Quebec  at  liberty, 
The  mark — the  sneer — the  jest  of  all — 
How  could  an  Iroquois  so  fall ! 
Ah,  forest  Chieftain !  noble  Brave  ! 

Wert  thou,  indeed,  so  mean  a  thing ! 
Better  have  rilled  a  warrior's  grave, 

Thou  Eagle  with  a  broken  wing ! 

XI. 

But  now  before  stern  Frontenac, 

The  Chief  seemed  struggling  sore  to  call 

Some  of  his  ancient  spirit  back  ; 
He  strove  to  lift  his  figure  tall 

To  its  full  height,  and  make  his  mien 

Show  the  proud  warrior  he  had  been  ; 

But  ah,  in  vain,  in  vain,  his  eye, 

From  Frontenac's  now  lenient  gaze, 
When  he  would  seek  its  glance  to  raise, 

Cowering  and  dim,  away  would  fly, 

And  there  he  stood,  an  humbled  slave, 

Not  a  Ho-de-no-sonne  Brave. 


XII. 

We-an-dah  !"     Up  the  Chieftain  rolled 
His  eye  at  the  commanding  tone, 


138  FRONTENAC. 

"  A  sweeping  cloud  of  midnight  fold 

Within  thy  people's  sky  has  grown 
And  Yon-non-de-yoh's  ;  in  the  trail 
Between  us,  sharp  thick  briers  prevail, 
And  soon  will  Yon-non-de-yoh's  tread 
Be  on  the  war-path  stern  and  dread  ; 
But  thou !  thou  art  my  brother,  Brave ! 
We  've  buried  in  one  common  grave 
The  hatchet,  trodden  it  down  deep, 
And  still  between  us  will  we  keep 
The  chain  of  friendship !  thou  wilt  go, 
My  friend  and  guide  against  my  foe !" 


XIII. 

"  Hooh!"  and  the  warrior  reared  his  frame 
Proudly,  whilst  flashed  his  eye  with  flame, 
"  Hooh  !"  and  he  flung  his  arm  on  high, 
As  if  he  'd  soar  up  to  the  sky, 
"  Does  Yon-non-de-yoh" — and  his  look 
Was  lofty  and  sublime,  as  down 

On  Frontenac  it  wildly  flashed, 
Then  changed  it  to  a  mighty  frown, 
His  lip  with  rage  impetuous  shook, 

And  on  the  floor  his  foot  he  dashed — 
"  Think  that  We-an-dah  is  a  dog !" 
He  clutched  his  knife  with  fury,  "  Rather" — 
Grated  his  teeth, — "  my  Canada  father 
"  Back  to  his  cell  the  Brave  shall  flog, 
Than  he  will  lift  the  hatchet  red 
Against  his  tribe  or  League  !"     And  dread 


WE-AN-DAH.  139 


Rang  his  shrill  whoop,  so  loudly  pealed, 
It  seemed  all  objects  round  him  reeled. 


XIV. 

Frontenac  started  as  at  first 
This  fierce  defiance  on  him  burst, 
Then,  smiling  in  derision  grim, 

Signed  to  Allaire  close  by,  who  took 

A  cup  and  flagon  from  a  nook, 
And  filled  the  goblet  to  the  brim  ; 
The  Indian  threw  one  eager  glance 

On  it,  in  proud  restraint  then  turned, 

And  with  majestic  aspect  stood  ; 
Then  viewing  it  again  askance, 

He  clutched  it,  whilst  his  features  burned, 

And  drank  it  as  a  wolf  does  blood. 
Another  draught  then  down  he  flung, 

And  then  another,  still  another, 
Then  reeling  up,  with  stammering  tongue, 

Said,  "  Yes !  We-an-dah  is  the  brother 
Of  Yon-non-de-yoh  !  whitemen  all 
His  brothers  are  !  the  Brave  feels  tall ! 
His  heart  feels  big  !  fire-water 's  good  ! 
It  fills  his  veins  with  leaping  blood  ! 
He  '11  go  where  Yon-non-de-yoh  goes  ! 
His  foes  shall  be  We-an-dah 's  foes ! 
Whoop !  whoop  !  fire-water  's  good  !  more,  more ! " 
And  down  he  pitched  upon  the  floor. 
Ah,  forest  Chieftain  !  noble  Brave  ! 

Wert  thou,  indeed,  so  mean  a  thing ! 


140  FKONTENAC. 

Better  have  filled  a  warrior's  grave, 
Thou  Eagle  with  a  broken  wing  ! 


THE  SUMMONS. 

xv. 

Ho !  ho !  to  the  war-path  !  with  high  lifted  head, 

The  Huron  unburied  the  tomahawk  red  ; 

The  bowed  Adirondack  looked  up  with  the  knife 

Gleaming  keen  in  his  hand  for  the  pitiless  strife  ; 

The  Ottawa's  wild  war-paint  glowed  fresh  on  his  cheek, 

As  he  came  the  fierce  hatred  of  ages  to  wreak  ; 

The  rough  hardy  boatmen  left  river  and  lake ; 

The  trapper  the  beaver  ;  the  woodman  the  brake  ; 

The  noble  clasped  cuirass  of  steel  on  his  breast, 

For  the  glory  that  gave  to  existence  its  zest ; 

The  artizan  closed  his  dim  workshop,  and  took 

His  arquebuse  rusting  for  years  in  its  nook  ; 

The  soldier,  who  followed  on  Hungary's  plain 

Carignan's  spread  flag,  grasped  his  musket  again; 

The  husbandman,  singing  gay  Normandy's  songs 

Amongst  Canada's  grain-fields,  rose  too  with  the  throngs  ; 

The  axe  midst  the  stumps  of  the  clearing  was  flung; 

No  longer  the  hunter's  sharp  rifle-crack  rung  ; 

The  village  was  empty ;  deserted  the  glade ; 

All  came  where  the  banner  of  France  was  displayed ; 

Ho,  ho,  to  the  war-path !  stern  Frontenac's  tread 

Is  to  dash  to  the  earth  the  leagued  enemy's  head. 


THE    ENCAMPMENT.  141 


THE   ENCAMPMENT. 

XVI. 

The  summer  sun  was  sinking  bright 

Behind  the  woods  of  Isle  Perrot ; 
Back  Lake  St.  Louis  gleamed  the  light 

In  rich  and  mingled  glow ; 
The  slanting  radiance  at  Lachine 
Shone  on  an  animated  scene. 
Beside  the  beach  upon  the  swell 

Scores  of  canoes  were  lightly  dancing, 
With  many  a  long  batteau,  where  fell 

The  sun,  on  pole  and  drag-rope  glancing. 
Throngs  were  upon  the  gravelly  beach 
Bustling  with  haste,  and  loud  in  speech ; 
Some  were  placing  in  rocky  batteaux 

Cannon  and  mortars  and  piles  of  grenades  ; 
Some  were  refitting  their  arrows  and  bows, 

Others  were  scanning  their  muskets  and  blades  ; 
Some  were  kindling  their  bivouac  fire  ; 
Others  \vere  blending 

Their  voices  in  song  ; 
"Whilst  others,  contending 
With  utterance  strong, 
Scarce  kept  from  blows  in  their  wreckless  ire. 


XVII. 

Scabbard  touched  hatchet,  and  scalp-lock  plume  ; 
Wheeling  platoons  here  and  there  forced  room  ; 

7* 


142  FRONTENAC. 

The  Indian  with  girdle  and  knife  was  here  ; 
There  was  the  buff-coated  musketeer  ; 
The  pikeman's  steel  breastplate  here  flashed  in  the  sun, 
By  the  swarthy  Canadian's  rude  halberd  and  gun ; 
The  noble's  gay  mantle  and  sabre  passed  there, 
By  the  hunter's  rough  deerskin  and  long  shaggy  hair ; 
Coureurs  de  bois  and  batteaumen,  made  gay 
By  their  sashes  and  caps,  swell'd  the  mingled  array; 
Whilst  guttural  accents  and  laughter  loud, 
Mixed  with  the  tones  of  stern  command  ; 
Loudly  arose  upon  every  hand 
From  the  quick,  busy,  and  eager  crowd. 


XVIII. 

O'er  a  fur  trader's  cabin,  spread  broadly  on  high, 
France's  white  standard  saluted  the  eye  ; 
Beneath  were  the  griffins  of  Frontenac  gleaming 
In  gold,  on  the  breast  of  a  pennon  outstreaming. 
Before  the  threshold  the  sentries  went, 

Two  of  the  guardsmen  grim  and  tall ; 
There  were  the  steps  of  the  leaders  bent, 

In  and  out  of  the  audience-hall. 

XIX. 

The  sunset  tints  from  the  lake  withdrew, 
And  now  on  the  broad  expanse  were  seen 

Here,  rough  Ottawa's  tawny  hue, 
There  Cataraqui's  splendid  green. 

Onward  flowing,  disdaining  to  mingle, 

Either  color  distinct  and  single  ; 


THE    ENCAMPMENT. 


And  not  till  league  on  league  were  passed, 
Did  the  hues,  so  separate,  blend  at  last. 


xx, 

As  the  twilight  darkened  round, 
Flame  on  flame  existence  found  ; 
Stir  and  bustle  ceased,  and  all 
Welcomed  night's  slow  gathering  palL 

XXI. 

Circling  a  fire  up  merrily  streaming, 

A  group  of  pikemen  and  musketeers 
Sat  with  their  corslets  and  weapons  gleaming 

Red  in  the  light 

"  'Tis  a  sight  that  cheers 
My  bosom,  to  see  this  warlike  host 
Cooped  so  long  in  one  dreary  post ! " 
Said  old  Allaire. 

"  Yes  !  well  sayest  thou, 
Answered  La  Croix.     "  I  Ve  vowed  a  vow 
To  holy  St.  Ursula,  that  this  pike 
Shall  ten  of  the  whooping  demons  strike  !" 
"  Ten,  sayest  thou  !  should  there  be  but  one, 
And  he  Thurenserah,  thy  prowess  were  done  !  " 
(<  "What  know'st  thou  of  my  prowess  !  " 

"  Nought. 

But  if  thou  the  Iroquois  often  hadst  met, 
Less  wouldst  thou  boast !     De  Nonville  sought 

Our  Seneca  foemen  !     I  cannot  forget 
The  combat  we  waged  mid  the  thickets  and  trees, 


144  FRONTENAC. 

With  our  creeping  and  serpent-like  enemies. 

Their  bullets  pattered  like  hail  about  ; 

And  then  their  hideous  battle  shout, 

It  cleaves  the  brain  like  a  fiery  dart  : 

In  many  a  battle  I  've  borne  a  part, 

I  've  followed  Turenne  and  great  Conde,  but  ne'er 

Strove  I  before  with  empty  air, 

And  death  all  about  me  !  " 

"  Allaire  was  in  fear, 

Me  thinks  !  "  said  the  pikeman,  around  with  a  sneer. 
"  In  fear  !  base  hound  !  " 

"  Nay,  nay!  "  outbroke 
The  others,  "  La  Croix  was  but  in  joke  ! 
Men  should  not  act  like  thoughtless  boys  ; 
Sing  us,  Allaire,  the  soldier's  joys!  " 


XXII. 

Allaire  had  started  to  his  feet, 

Clenching  his  hand,  whilst  the  other  stood 
Smiling,  yet  holding  his  arm,  as  though 
To  intercept  a  threatened  blow  ; 

But  quickly  calmed  the  old  guardsman's  blood, 
And  again  on  the  grass  he  took  his  seat ; 
And,  clearing  his  voice  with  an  effort,  sang 
In  tones  that  aloud  o'er  the  bivouac  rang. 


1. 

Banners  all  around  us  flying  ! 
Trumpets  all  around  us  ringing  ! 


THE    ENCAMPMENT.  145 

Weapons  gleaming  !  chargers  springing  ! 
Comrades  !  who  's  afraid  of  dying ! 
Forward  march  !  quick  on  we  go, 
Gladly,  freely,  breast  to  foe ; 
Forward,  forward,  on  we  go, 
Such  the  joys  we  soldiers  know. 
Honor  bright  to  fleeting  breath, 
Give  us  victory  or  death ; 
With  our  bosoms  to  the  foe, 
Such  the  joys  we  soldiers  know ! 

2. 

"  When  is  past  the  conflict  gory, 

And  our  veins  have  ceased  their  leaping, 
Then  the  watch-fire  redly  heaping, 

Round  fly  merry  song  and  story  ; 

Frowning  care  behind  we  throw 

As  our  gleaming  glasses  glow ; 

Backward  march  we  bid  it  go ! 

Such  the  joys  we  soldiers  know ! 

Ever  ready  for  the  field, 

Ever  ready  life  to  yield ; 

Onward,  onward,  breast  to  foe, 

Such  the  joys  we  soldiers  know!" 

XXIII. 

In  the  room  of  a  lonely  roof  that  stood 
Beside  the  rapid  and  sounding  flood, 
Around  a  board  with  glasses  set, 
A  joyous  company  were  met ; 
The  noble  leaders  of  the  array 


146  FRONTENAC. 

Speeding  a  few  bright  hours  away. 

Here  sat  De  Gras  and  Vandreuil ;  there 

Caliieres  and  Bekancourt  mocking  at  care. 

Sparkling  jest  and  witty  gleam 

Shot  o'er  the  winecup's  ruddy  stream ; 

And  story,  debate,  and  legend  old, 

With  frequent  song  time  onward  rolled. 

Hark  !  a  voice  sounds  merrily  ; 

'Tis  Bekancourt  singing  in  light-hearted  glee. 

1. 

"  Lovely  France  1  my  native  France ! 

At  thy  name  my  bosom  bounds ! 
To  my  eye  sweet  visions  dance  ! 

In  my  ear  soft  music  sounds ! 
Hail !  thy  purple  vineyards  flowing ! 
Hail !  thy  bright-eyed  daughters  glowing ! 

Of  my  life  thou  seem'st  a  part, 
Lovely  France  !     Ah,  la  belle  France, 

Glorious  France,  how  dear  thou  art ! 

2. 

"  Lovely  France  !  my  native  France  ! 

Famous  are  thy  battle-fields  ; 
And  where  points  thy  glittering  lance, 

Victory  there  her  trophy  yields. 
Hail !  thy  high  historic  story  ! 
Hail !  thy  legends  rife  with  glory  ! 

Shrine,  where  bends  my  willing  heart ! 
Lovely  France !  ah,  la  belle  France  ! 

Glorious  France!  how  dear  thou  art !" 


THE    ENCAMPMENT.  147 


XXIV. 

As  sinks  the  voice  upon  the  applauding  throng, 
The  young  De  Gras  takes  up  the  thread  of  song. 

1. 

"  What  thought  makes  my  heart  with  most  tenderness  swell  ? 
Tis  the  thought  of  thy  beauty,  my  sweet  Gabrielle  ! 
To  the  soft  wind  of  summer  swings  lightly  the  tree, 
But  the  glide  of  thy  step  is  far  lighter  to  me. 

2. 

"  Oh !  the  sunshine  around  thee  sheds  richer  its  glow, 
And  the  breeze  sighs  more  blandly  when  kissing  thy  brow ; 
The  nightingale  chaunts  her  melodious  glee, 
But  the  sound  of  thy  voice  is  far  sweeter  to  me. 

3. 

"  Thou  hast  circled  thy  chain — thou  hast  woven  thy  spell 
For  aye  round  this  bosom,  my  own  Gabrielle  ! 
The  star  of  the  evening  is  brilliant  to  see, 
But  the  glance  of  thy  eye  is  far  brighter  to  me. 

4. 

"In  life,  my  loved  angel,  when  struggling  in  death, 
Thy  dear  name  will  dwell  on  my  last  ebbing  breath. 
Heaven's  bliss  would  be  clouded  and  dark  without  thee, 
The  step,  voice  and  eye,  that  make  heaven  to  me." 


148  FRONTENAC. 


THE  MARCH. 

XXV. 

Day  after  day,  on  Cataraqui's  breast, 

The  embattled  host  their  upward  pathway  pressed. 

All  the  noblest  of  the  land 

Mingled  in  that  warlike  band  ; 

Gallant  men,  whose  blood  had  poured 

Where'er  France  had  drawn  the  sword. 

XXVI. 

In  the  bright  midst  was  the  gray-haired  Frontenac, 

His  fiery  soul  in  arms  for  the  attack. 

Long  had  he  burned  his  vengeful  hate  to  shower 

On  the  wild  foes  so  scornful  of  his  power; 

To  crush  and  whelm  them  in  one  general  doom 

Of  blood  and  flame,  and  now  the  hour  was  come. 

XXVII. 

On  the  flotilla  passed — sword,  pike,  and  gun 
Traced  on  the  wave,  and  glittering  in  the  sun. 

XXVIII. 

Now  by  green  islands,  where  the  feeding  d^er 
Looked,  and  was  gone  ere  arquebuse  could  bear ; 

Now  by  still  coves,  upon  whose  mirrors  clear 
The  glossy  duck  seemed  gliding  through  the  air ; 

Now  o'er  some  lake,  whose  broad  expanded  breast, 

As  came  the  breeze,  to  white-capped  waves  was  driven, 


THE    MARCH.  149 

And  on  whose  distant  flood  appeared  to  rest 
The  hazy  softness  of  the  summer  heaven  ; 
Athwart  the  mouth  of  some  fierce  river,  now 

Hurling  its  tumbling  foaming  tribute  in, 
And  marking  with  its  stain  its  conqueror's  brow, 
Beheld  for  hours  before  the  spot  they  win. 
Merrily  now  some  basin  o'er, 

Borne  with  paddle  and  oar  quick  dashing  : 
Turning  now  to  the  tangled  shore, 

Where  the  cataract  down  came  crashing  ; 
And  whilst  a  part,  with  weary  struggling  care, 
Across  the  portage  wild  the  burthens  bear, 
The  rest,  waist-deep,  midst  whirling  foam,  drag  slow, 
Thus  lightened  of  their  loads,  canoe  and  huge  batteau. 

XXIX. 

Now  by  smooth  banks  where,  stretched  -beneath  the  shade, 

The  Indian  hunter  gazed  with  curious  eye ; 
Now  catching  glimpses  of  some  grassy  glade, 

Rich  with  the  sunshine  of  the  open  sky  ; 
Now  by  the  vista  of  some  creek,  where  stood 

The  moose  mid-leg,  and  tossing  high  his  crown 
Hazy  with  gnats,  and  vanishing  in  the  wood, 

Waking  to  showers  of  white  the  shallows  brown. 
Thus  on  they  passed  by  day — at  night  they  made 
Their  bivouac-fires  amidst  the  forest  shade, 
Scaring  the  wolf  and  panther,  till  the  reign 
Of  morning  bade  them  launch  upon  the  flood  again. 


END  OF  CANTO  FIFTH. 


CANTO   SIXTH. 


THE  WAR-HATCHET. 
THE  WILDERNESS. 
THE  CATARACT. 
THE  SENECAS. 
A-GA-YEN-TEH. 
CAYUGA  LAKE. 
THE  CAYUGAS. 


THE  ONEIDAS. 
THE  STRAWBERRY 

DANCE. 

THE  CANOE  VOYAGE. 
THE  MOHAWK'S  SCALP 

DANCE. 


CANTO  SIXTH. 


THE  WAR-HATCHET. 

i. 

UPON  a  gorgeous  woodland  scene, 

Whose  limits  mocked  the  eagle's  sight, 
A  billowy  sea  of  differing  green, 

The  sun  looked  downward  from  its  height. 
Along  an  Indian  trail,  that  traced 

Its  deep  seam  through  these  forests  vast, 
A  narrow  furrow,  midst  the  waste, 

Swiftly  the  Atotarho  passed. 
The  war-paint's  black  and  crimson  streaks 
Gleamed  fiercely  on  his  brow  and  cheeks  ; 
Upon  his  usual  robe  were  spread 
His  battle  deeds  in  tints  of  red ; 
Hatchet,  fusee,  and  knife  he  wore, 
His  shaven  head  the  war-tuft  bore  ; 
Whilst  a  roused  spirit,  fierce  yet  high, 
Sat,  like  couched  flame,  within  his  eye. 

ii. 

With  a  red  girdle  round  his  frame, 
Behind  the  Hah-yah-do-yah  came. 


154  FRONTENAC. 

Nodded  a  crimsoned  eagle  plume 
Over  a  brow  of  crimsoned  gloom  ; 
No  weapon  bore  he,  save  on  high 
A  hatchet  of  vermilion  dye. 


THE  WILDERNESS. 

in. 
Innumerable  vistas  far 

Extended,  myriad  trunks  between, 
Eye-tangling  and  irregular, 

Till  closed  by  hillock  or  ravine. 
Trees,  trees,  a  verdant  world,  were  round, 

Straight,  crooked,  slant,  each  seeking  light ; 

With  some  all  splintered,  bare,  and  white, 
Telling  the  lightning's  blasting  bound. 
And  now  and  then  was  seen  a  path 

Of  prostrate  trunks  in  chaos  cast, 

With  upturned  roots,  dark  circles  vast, 
Signs  of  the  fierce  tornado's  wrath. 


iv.  .  A 

Pines  met  the  eye,  all  tasselled  o'er  ; 
Hemlocks  that  fringy  cones  upbore  ;  • 
Oaks  with  their  scalloped  verdure  ;  beeches 
Whose  moss  the  northward  pathway  teaches ; 
Poplars,  light-hued  and  sensitive, 


THE    WILDERNESS',  155 

To  every  air-breath  all  alive  \ 

Maples,  their  red-stemmed  foliage  flickering 

To  downiest  winds  like  streamlets  bickering  ; 

Striped  dog- woods,  birches  sweet,  that  stood 

The  incense  bearers  of  the  wood  ; 

Grim  lurching  firs  and  laurels  green, 

Showing  the  swamp's  wet,  clustered  scene, 


v. 

Through  this  gigantic  roof,  the  light 
Here,  made  some  natural  opening  bright ; 
Here,  down  a  narrow  vista  swept ; 
Here  underneath  dense  thickets  crept ; 
Here,  broken^  struggling  being  found, 
Sprinkled  like  fire-flies  on  the  ground, 
But  scarce  these  colors  few  the  sway 
Broke  of  the  general  hue  of  gray, 
That  filled,  subdued  and  softy  the  air, 
Making  a  solemn  twilight  there. 


vs. 

This  glorious  sylvan  scene  showed  rife 

Each  stage  of  vegetable  life. 

The  downy  sprout,  the  ground-bird  trod 

Elastic  to  the  downy  sod  ; 

The  sappling  with  faint  verdure  crowned, 

Low  bending  to  the  squirrel's  bound  ; 

The  tree,  that,  towering  strong  and  high 

Spread  its  green  standard  to  the  sky  \ 


156  FRONTENAC. 

Then,  the  dead  top  with  lichens  dressed ; 
Then,  the  dark  hollow  in  the  breast ; 
At  last  the  dead  prone  log,  with  moss 
Flung  like  a  shroud,  its  form  across. 


VII. 

As  by  the  Indians  passed,  its  lay 
The  robin  ceased  and  shot  away  ; 
Off,  like  a  flash,  the  red-bird  flew  ; 
Its  gambol  scared,  the  rabbit  threw  ; 
The  crackling  of  the  under-brush 
Told  of  the  deer's  retreating  rush  ; 
With  heavy  wing,  and  croaking  hoarse, 
The  crow  urged  o'er  the  woods  its  course ; 
Whilst  now  and  then  the  eagle  gray 
Pointed  his  beak  and  soared  away. 


VIII. 

O'er  some  green  glade  now  went  their  tread, 
Spotted  with  strawberries  pouting  red  ; 
Now  by  a  fountain  clear  as  dew 
Trickling  its  mossy  channel  through ; 
Now  in  a  broad  and  sweeping  aisle ; 
Now  in  a  deep  and  dark  defile ; 
And  now  across  the  jagged  bridge 
Of  some  tree  fall'n  from  ridge  to  ridge, 
Forming  between  the  hollow  black, 
Where  crept  the  sedgy  streamlet's  track- 


THE    CATARACT.  157 


THE  CATARACT. 

IX, 

A  steady  sound,  whose  rumble  deep 

Had  long  been  mingling  with  the  air, 
More  loud  and  stern  commenced  to  sweep, 

Till  on  the  ear  it  seemed  to  bear 
A  mighty  load ;  the  woods  it  filled 

With  its  grand  volume  of  stern  sound  ; 
Nature's  most  secret  heart  seemed  thrilled, 

And  every  other  tone  was  drowned. 
To  the  light  wind  the  branches  shook, 
Down  sparkled  on  its  way  the  brook, 
Flew  in  and  out  each  merry  bird, 
But  not  a  sigh,  dash,  chip,  was  heard. 


Over  the  trees  a  form  of  snow 
Was  towering,  by  the  sunny  glow 
Kissed  into  flashing  diamonds  ;  bright 
That  silvery  shape  of  glancing  light, 
Seeming  as  changing,  quivering,  there, 
Some  hovering  spirit  of  the  air. 

XI. 

Well,  well  the  Atotarho  knew 
That  shape,  thus  glittering  to  his  view 
Oft  had  he  stood  and  on  it  gazed, 
As  in  its  noontide  pomp  it  blazed ; 
8 


158  FRONTKNAC. 

And  when  the  moonlight  o'er  it  threw 
Its  delicate  robe  of  silvery  hue ; 
In  contrast  sweet  and  bright,  to  where 
The  crashing,  flashing,  plunging  form 
Of  floods  rush'd  down  in  fearful  storm, 
One  mighty  curve  upon  the  air. 
The  first  seemed  telling  him  to  rise, 
Until  his  fame  should  reach  the  skies ; 
The  last  in  thunder  seemed  to  say, 
Kneel,  Atotarho!  kneel  and  pray  ! 
Forget  thy  deeds,  and  with  low  brow, 
Think  of  the  Hah-wen-ne-yo  now  ! 

XII. 

'Twas  O-ni-ah-ga-rah  there  that  hurled 
Its  awful  grandeur  down  its  rock ; 

Dim  sign  of  that  dread  shape  a  world 

Reeling,  shall  see,  when  with  fierce  shock 

He  '11  plant  His  tread  on  sea  and  shore, 

And  swear  that  Time  shall  be  no  more. 

Farther  my  harp  is  mute  to  tell 

Of  the  Sublime — the  Terrible. 


THE  SENEGAS. 

XIII. 

The  westering  sun  shot  slanting  beam 
Along  a  narrow  winding  stream, 
Bathing  the  basswoods  of  the  bank, 
Bending  in  interlacing  fold, 


A-GA-YEN-TEH.  159 

Whose  rich  and  pendent  clusters  drank 

The  light,  till  seemed  they  wrought  of  gold. 

XIV. 

An  Indian  castle  clustered  by, 
Girdled  with  palisadoes  high. 
Within  a  grassy  space  that  lay 
Next  to  the  forest,  an  array 
Of  warriors  in  a  circle  sat, 
Each  crouched  upon  his  bear-skin  mat. 
Solemnly  passed  the  wreathing  pipe 
Adorned  with  many  a  blazoned  type  ; 
Whilst  each  fixed  eye  and  rigid  face 
Of  deep  abstracted  thought  bore  trace. 


A-GA-YEN-TEH.* 
xv. 

At  length  a  warrior  rose,  his  breast 
Bearing  a  snake,  tattooed,  its  crest 
And  forked  tongue  ready — with  a  brow 
Where  care  had  driven  its  furrowing  plough, 
And  with  a  keen  heart-searching  eye 
That  flew  around,  each  point  to  spy, 
As  if  some  danger  near  to  find 
Lurking  beside  him  or  behind. 

*  Meaning  "  To  strike,"  in  Seneca. 


160  FRONTENAC. 


XVI. 

'Twas  A-ga-yen-teh,  chieftain  famed  ! 

Who,  midst  the  League's  stern  warriors,  claimed 

To  Thurenserah  next,  the  meed 

Of  honor  and  authority 

By  the  fierce  Nations  yielded  free 
To  wisdom  and  to  valorous  deed. 


XVII. 

Yet  though  in  council  eloquent 

And  wise,  and  on  the  war-path  brave, 
To  venomed  envy's  thraldom  bent 

Dark  A-ga-yen-teh,  veriest  slave  ; 
And  hatred  fierce  with  envy  came, 
Kindling  his  breast  with  blended  flame. 
'Twas  Thurenserah's  fame  that  fraught 
With  venom  foul  his  every  thought; 
His  power  and  sway  within  his  heart 

Rankled  in  sleepless,  ceaseless  ire, 
But  yet,  so  matchless  was  his  art, 

He  veiled  from  all  the  fiendish  fire. 
Oft  in  the  Union  Feast  would  sneer 
Or  gesture  of  disdain  appear 
When  Thurenserah  met  his  eye ; 
But  with  such  quickness  passed  they  by 
That  scarcely  could  the  sight  descry. 
He  seemed  a  shadowy  scorn  to  throw 

Upon  the  Atotarho's  state 
By  quick  grimace — eye's  side  wise  glow, 


A-GA-YEN-TEH.  161 

Or  tone's  slight  sarcasm — yet  his  hate 
Was  ne'er  displayed  in  open  word  ; 
And  all  these  signs  so  slightly  stirred 
The  mind,  none  heeded  at  the  time  ; 
And  still,  so  lurking  was  the  slime, 
That  memory  by  unwitting  spell 
On  those  strange  shrugs  and  smiles  would  dwell, 
But  then  some  action  high  and  proud 

Of  the  Young  Atotarho  far 

Swept  every  doubt  as  from  a  star 
The  strong  blast  sweeps  the  transient  cloud. 

XVIII. 

For  a  brief  instant  silently 
Like  a  tall  form  of  bronze  stood  he, 
Then  rearing  more  erect  his  head 
And  stretching  out  his  arm,  he  said  ; — 

XIX. 

"  Sachems  and  warriors  !  each  his  eye 
Cast  round ;  the  sun  about  to  die 
Once  more,  sends  out  his  loveliest  blaze 
Lighting  our  lodges,  graves,  and  maize. 
Where  these  stand  now,  ye  oft  have  heard 
(Brothers  !  this  heart  holds  every  word) 
In  time  of  snows  our  old  men  tell, 
How  by  our  sires  the  Kah-kwahs  fell ; 
Their  sons  will  ne'er  then  slumber  long 

De-o-se-o-wah's  huts  within  ; 
Rouse  warriors  ;  to  the  war-path  throng  ! 


162  FRONTENAC. 

Here,  glory  Braves  can  never  win  ! 
Our  tomahawks  are  thirsty  !  see 

How  bright  they  are  !  we  '11  let  them  drink 
Deep  of  the  blood  of  Illini ! 

Will  any  of  my  young  men  shrink  ? 
No  !  Nun-do-wah-gahs  never  fail 
When  points  Agreskoue*  the  trail. 
Never  the  war-path  did  they  shun  ! 
Sachems  and  warriors  !  I  have  done  !" 


xx. 

A  loud  "  yo-hah  !"  burst  out,  but  e'er 
Another  could  his  mind  declare, 
A  form  strode  in  with  lofty  tread, 
A  crimson  hatchet  in  his  cling, 
Glanced  for  a  moment  round  the  ring, 
Then  waved  the  weapon  o'er  his  head. 


XXI. 

"  The  Atotarho  !"  pealed  on  high  ; 
Each  Brave  leaped  upward  with  the  cry  ; 
"  The  Atotarho  !"  every  head 

Was  bent ;  again  arose  the  shout 
"  The  Atotarho!"  quick  it  spread 

Till  every  quarter  pealed  it  out ; 
"  The  Atotarho  !"  matrons,  maids, 

Children,  old  men,  youths,  warriors,  all 

*  The  War-God  of  the  Iroquois. 


A-GA-YEN  TEH.  163 

Came  rushing  from  the  palisades, 

Housed  by  that  loved  and  well-known  call. 
Whilst  the  lean  dogs  that  glanced  about 
Joined  their  loud  barkings  to  the  shout. 


XXII. 

Grim  A-ga-yen-teh's  eye  flashed  fire, 
As  Thurenserah  first  strode  in 
And  burst  on  high  the  joyful  din, 
Then  lost  his  brow  all  trace  of  ire, 
And,  bowing,  he  stood  waiting  till 
He  heard  the  Atotarho's  will. 


XXIII. 

Slow  Thurenserah  swayed  around 
The  hatchet,  hushing  every  sound, 
Whilst  every  eye  to  his  was  turned  ; 

And,  by  the  crimson  hatchet  woke 
To  flame  anticipating,  burned 

Flashing  more  fierce  as  now  he  spoke  : 
"  Braves !  Yon-non-de-yoh  comes  to  slay 

And  burn  !  hooh  !  Nun-do-wah-gah  Braves ! 
To  On-on-dah-gah  !  up !  away  ! 

Fly  warriors  !  for  your  fathers'  graves ! 
Let  every  young  man  seek  the  trail !" 
Out  burst  the  warwhoop's  quavering  wail, 
Forth  knives  and  hatchets  flashed,  once  more 
The  whoop,  keen  echoing,  trembled  o'er, 
Lodges  and  palisadoes  rung, 
Each  tree  seemed  gifted  with  a  tongue, 


164  FRONTENAC. 

Each  face  grew  wild,  the  very  air 
Gleamed  with  the  weapons  wielded  there, 
Till  twilight,  soft  and  gentle,  drew 
Across  the  scene  its  shimmering  hue. 


CAYUGA  LAKE. 

XXIV. 

Another  lovely  sunset  beamed 

Upon  Gwe-u-gwe's  glassy  breast, 
Which  in  responsive  lustre  gleamed 

As  if  these  glowed  a  second  west. 
The  forests  on  the  Eastern  shore 
Half  robes  of  golden  radiance  bore  ; 
Harsh  sights  and  sounds  with  melting  day 

Had  from  the  lovely  scene  been  driven, 
Nature  seemed  kneeling  down  to  pray 

In  praise  and  gratitude  to  Heaven. 


xxv. 

Sweet  sylvan  lake  !  in  memory's  gold 

Is  set  the  time,  when  first  my  eye 
From  thy  green  shore  beheld  thee  hold 

Thy  mirror  to  the  sunset  sky  ! 
No  ripple  brushed  its  delicate  air, 
Rich  silken  tints  alone  were  there  ; 
The  far  opposing  shore  displayed, 
Mingling  its  hues,  a  tender  shade ; 


CAYUGA    LAKE.  165 


A  sail  scarce  seeming  to  the  sight 
To  move,  spread  there  its  pinion  white, 
Like  some  pure  spirit  stealing  on 
Down  from  its  realm,  by  beauty  won. 
Oh,  who  could  view  the  scene  nor  feel 
Its  gentle  peace  within  him  steal, 
Nor  in  his  inmost  bosom  bless 
Its  pure  and  radiant  loveliness  ! 
My  heart  bent  down  its  willing  knee 
Before  the  glorious  Deity  ; 
Beauty  led  up  my  heart  to  Him, 
Beauty,  though  cold,  and  poor,  and  dim 
Before  His  radiance,  beauty  still 
That  made  my  bosom  deeply  thrill ; 
To  higher  life  my  being  wrought, 
And  purified  my  every  thought, 
Crept  like  soft  music  through  my  mind, 
Each  feeling  of  my  soul  refined, 
And  lifted  me  that  lovely  even 
One  precious  moment  up  to  heaven. 


XXVI. 

Then,  contrast  wild,  I  saw  the  cloud 

The  next  day  rear  its  sable  crest, 
And  heard  with  awe  the  thunder  lond 

Come  crashing  o'er  thy  blackening  breast. 
Down  swooped  the  Eagle  of  the  blast, 

One  mass  of  foam  was  tossing  high, 
Whilst  the  red  lightnings,  fierce  and  fast, 

Shot  from  the  wild  and  scowling  sky, 
8* 


166  FRONTENAC. 

And  burst  in  dark  and  mighty  train 
A  tumbling  cataract,  the  rain. 
I  saw  within  the  driving  mist 

Dim  writhing  stooping  shapes — the  trees 
That  the  last  eve  so  softly  kissed, 

And  birds  so  filled  with  melodies. 
Still  swept  the  wind  with  keener  shriek, 

The  tossing  waters  higher  rolled, 
Still  fiercer  flashed  the  lightning's  streak, 

Still  gloomier  frowned  the  tempest's  fold. 


XXVII. 

Ah  such,  ah  such  is  Life,  I  sighed, 
That  lovely  yester-eve  and  this  ! 
Now  it  reflects  the  radiant  pride 

Of  youth  and  hope  and  promised  bliss, 
Earth's  future  track  and  Eden  seems 
Brighter  than  e'en  our  brightest  dreams. 
Again,  the  tempest  rushes  o'er, 
The  sky's  blue  smile  is  seen  no  more, 
The  placid  deep  to  foam  is  tossed, 
All  trace  of  beauty,  peace,  is  lost, 
Despair  is  hovering,  dark  and  wild, 
Ah  !  what  can  save  earth's  stricken  child  ! 

XXVIII. 

Sweet  sylvan  lake  !  beside  thee  now, 
Villages  point  their  spires  to  heaven, 

Rich  meadows  wave,  broad  grain-fields  bow, 
The  axe  resounds,  the  plough  is  driven  ; 


CAYUGA    LAKE,  167 

Down  verdant  points  come  herds  to  drink, 
FJocks  strew,  like  spots  of  snow,  thy  brink; 
The  frequent  farm-house  meets  the  sight, 
Mid  falling  harvests  scythes  are  bright, 
The  watch-dog's  bark  comes  faint  from  far, 
Shakes  an  the  ear  the  saw-mill's  jar, 
The  steamer  like  a  darting  bird 

Parts  the  rich  emerald  of  thy  wave, 
And  the  gay  song  and  laugh  are  heard, 

But  all  is  o'er  the  Indian's  grave. 
Pause,  white  man  !  check  thy  onward  stride  ! 
Cease  o'er  the  flood  thy  prow  to  guide  ! 
Until  is  given  one  sigh  sincere 
For  those  who  once  were  monarchs  here. 
And  prayer  is  made  beseeching  God 
To  spare  us  his  avenging  rod 
For  all  the  wrongs  upon  the  head 
Of  the  poor  helpless  savage  shed ; 
Who,  strong  when  we  were  weak,  did  not 
Trample  us  down  upon  the  spot, 
But  weak  when  we  were  strong,  were  casi 
L.ike  leaves  upon  the  rushing  blast. 

XXIX. 

Sweet  sylvan  lake !  one  single  gem 

Is  in  thy  liquid  diadem. 

No  sister  has  this  little  isle 

To  give  its  beauty  smile  for  smile  ; 

With  it  to  hear  the  blue-bird  sing ; 

"  Wake  leaves,  wake  flowers !  here  comes  the  Spring !" 


168  FRONTENAC. 

With  it  to  weave  for  Summer's  tread 
Mosses  below  and  bowers  overhead  ; 
With  it  to  flash  to  gorgeous  skies 
The  opal  pomp  of  Autumn  skies ; 
And  when  stern  Winter's  tempests  blow 
To  shrink  beneath  his  robes  of  snow. 

XXX. 

Sweet  sylvan  lake  !  that  isle  of  thine 
Is  like  one  hope  through  grief  to  shine : 
Is  like  one  tie  our  life  to  cheer ; 
Is  like  one  flower  when  all  is  sere  ; 
One  ray  amidst  the  tempest's  might ; 
One  star  amidst  the  gloom  of  night. 

xxxi. 

Back  to  the  evening  of  my  strain ! 
Back  to  the  sunset  hour  again ! 


THE  CAYUGAS. 

XXXII. 

Amidst  the  lake's  rich  jewelled  hues 

Moves  a  flotilla  of  canoes 

Toward  the  green  shore ;  the  sinking  light 

Paints  Ko-lah-ne-kah's  lodges  low  ; 
Makes  clustered  apple-orchards  bright, 

And  maize-fields  bathes  with  rosy  glow. 


THE    CAYUGAS.  169 


XXXIII. 

From  the  pure  grass-green  depths  all  day 
The  young  men  had  been  drawing  prey ; 
The  greedy  pike  in  mottled  vest, 
The  perch  in  golden  armor  drest, 
The  glossy  trout  with  spotted  side, 
The  bass  with  silver  streaks  supplied  ; 
And  now,  as  homeward  course  they  take, 
They  raise  their  anthem  to  the  lake. 

1. 

Gwe-u-gwe  the  lovely  !  Gwe-u-gwe  the  bright ! 
Our  bosoms  rejoice  in  thy  beautiful  sight ; 
Thou  bear'st  our  kah-we-yahs,  we  bathe  in  thy  flow, 
And  when  we  are  hungered  thy  bounties  we  know. 

2. 

In  peace  now  is  spread  the  pure  plain  of  thy  waves, 
Like  the  maidens  that  cast  their  kind  looks  on  their  Braves  ; 
But  when  the  black  tempest  comes  o'er  with  its  sweep, 
Like  the  Braves  on  their  war-path  fierce  rages  thy  deep. 

3. 

Thou  art  lovely,  when  morning  breaks  forth  from  the  sky, 
Thou  art  lovely,  when  noon  hurls  his  darts  from  on  high, 
Thou  art  lovely,  when  sunset  paints  brightly  thy  brow, 
And  in  moonlight  and  starlight  still  lovely  art  thou. 


170  FRONTENAC. 


4. 

Gwe-u-gwe  !  Gwe-u-gwe !  how  sad  would  we  be, 
Were  the  gloom  of  our  forests  not  brightened  by  thee  ; 
Hah-wen-ne-yo  would  seem  from  his  sons  turned  away ; 
Gwe-u-gwe  !  Gwe-u-gwe !  then  list  to  our  lay. 


xxxiv. 

As  the  kah-we-yahs  touched  the  shore, 
A  band  of  other  warriors  came 

From  the  thick  rank  of  woods  before, 
Bending  beneath  their  forest  game  ; 

The  slender  deer,  soft,  ebon-eyed, 

As  if  in  sorrow  he  had  died  ; 

The  long-eared  rabbit  dangling  down, 

The  partridge  in  its  mottled  brown, 

The  shaggy  bear  in  sable  coat 

Gaping  with  white-fanged  crimson  throat, 

The  wild-cat  with  its  eyes'  green  gleam, 

Arid  wolf  with  jaws  one  foamy  stream. 


xxxv. 

Pausing  upon  a  little  glade 

That  edged  with  grassy  stripe  the  shade, 

In  one  great  pile  their  game  they  threw, 

Around  it  in  a  circle  drew, 

Then  in  wild  dance  their  forms  they  flung, 

Whilst  one,  the  ring  that  headed  sung : 


THE    CAYUGAS.  171 

1. 

"  Kind  Kah-hah-goh  !* 
Our  glad  praise  to  thee  we  send, 
Thou  art  the  Gwe-u-gwes'  friend, 
Saying,  '  Warrior,  bend  thy  bow  ! 
Look,  Brave,  look  !  the  bear  is  low  !' 
Saying,  '  Warrior,  aim  thy  gun  ! 
Look !  the  deer's  swift  course  is  run  !' 

Kind  Kah-hah-goh  ! 
Thus  our  praise  to  thee  we  send, 
Thou  art  the  Gwe-u-gwes'  friend. 

2. 

"Kind  Kah-hah-goh! 
In  thy  robe  of  summer  green 
Thou  dost  o'er  our  ambush  lean, 
Saying,  '  Warrior,  grasp  thy  axe, 
Hush  !  the  foe  is  on  thy  tracks  !' 
Hush !  Whoop  !  now  in  blood  he  lies  ! 
Wave  his  scalp  before  his  eyes ! 

Kind  Kah-hah-goh  ! 
Thus  our  praise  to  thee  we  send, 
Thou  art  the  Gwe-u-gwes'  friend !" 

xxxvi. 

Ceases  the  deep  and  droning  strain, 
The  hunters  claim  their  loads  again, 

*  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Forest,"  in  the  Cayuga  language. 


172  FRONTENAC. 

Joining  the  Braves  then  from  the  lake, 
All  to  the  castle,  pathway  take. 


xxxvn. 

But  words  that  told  surprise  and  awe, 
Burst  from  the  front,  and  each  one  saw 
Upon  a  naked  mound  that  stood 
Like  a  green  bastion  from  the  wood, 
Against  the  background  rich  and  warm, 

In  posture  of  supreme  command 
Reared  to  full  height — a  warrior  form, 

A  hatchet  lifted  in  his  hand, 
Red  as  the  blushing  clouds  that  threw 
Upon  the  lake  their  gorgeous  hue. 

XXXVIII. 

A  moment's  silence  fell  about, 
'Twas  broke  by  Ka-i-na-tra's*  shout, 
"  The  Atotarho  !"  one  quick  yell 

Burst  then  from  every  warrior  there, — 
"  The  Atotarho!"  far  the  swell 

Rolled  on  the  soft  and  slumbering  air ; 
"  The  Atotarho  !"  deep  the  woods 
Thrilled  to  their  inner  solitudes ; 
"  The  Atotarho  !"  e'en  the  lake 
Seemed  into  that  one  sound  to  break  ; 
Then  the  shout  fell,  as,  flashing,  sped 

The  comer's  eye  across  the  crowd, 

*  "  The  Knife"  in  Cayuga. 


THE    ONEIDAS.  173 


And  with  his  hatchet  o'er  his  head, 

He  spoke  in  tones  that  rang  aloud 
To  every  bosom,  "  Ho,  ye  Braves ! 
The  bloody  Yon-non-de-yoh  comes 
To  seek  us  in  our  forest-homes  ! 
Warriors  !  love  ye  your  fathers'  graves  ? 
To  On-on-dah-gah,  Braves!  haste!  haste! 
Each  foot  upon  the  trail  be  placed, 
Gwe-u-gwes,  rouse  !  like  Eagles  go ! 
Warriors,  all  haste!  all  meet  the  foe  !" 


THE  ONEIDAS, 

XXXIX. 

Morning  had  winged  its  radiance  down, 
Bathing  one  half  the  hemlock's  head, 
Tipping  the  dogwood's  lowlier  crown, 
The  laurels  then  beneath  it  spread. 
The  mist  had  furled  it  plumes  on  high, 
Blue  robed  the  late  flushed,  varied  sky, 
And  the  glad  birds  their  chorus  gay 
Had  ceased,  to  flit  from  spray  to  spray  ; 
The  deer  had  left  the  grassy  glade 
And  crouched  again  within  the  shade, 
And  the  whole  forest  realm  once  more 
A  summer  day's  rich  lustre  wore. 

XL. 

Ku-na-wa-lo-ah's  lodges  too 
Were  glittering  in  the  golden  hue  ; 


174  FRONTENAC, 

The  circling  palisades  were  bright 

And  the  short  lanes  were  streaked  with  light. 


XLI. 

As  the  great  orb  on  tiptoe  stood 
Upon  a  neighboring  knoll  of  wood, 
The  Prophet,  a  black  bearskin  spread 
Around  his  form,  with  solemn  tread 
Came  to  the  Council  House,  reared  low 

And  long  amidst  the  trodden  square ; 
Pealed  out  a  cry  drawn  shrill  and  slow, 

And  as  the  echo  died  in  air, 
Warriors  in  pomp  of  paint  and  plume, 
Sires  in  bright  robes  that  decked  their  gloom, 
Matrons  and  maids  displaying  bead 

And  crimson  skirt,  round  every  head 

Thick  strawberry-leaves  in  garlands  spread 
The  rich  ripe  fruit  amongst,  with  speed 
The  narrow  ways  came  thronging  through, 
And  in  the  square  their  numbers  drew. 


XLII. 

There  the  young  Yu-we-lon-doh*  proud, 
Whose  deeds  were  on  the  war-path  loud, 
Stood  in  his  plumaged,  painted  pride, 
With  the  grim  Prophet  at  his  side. 

*  Meaning  "  Wind''  in  Oneida. 


THE    STRAWBERRY    DANCE.  175 


THE  STRAWBERRY  DANCE. 

XLIII. 

Now  must  the  Council  Square's  expanse 
Echo  the  usual  Strawberry  Dance, 
And  thanks  each  bosom  render  there 
To  Fire  and  Water,  Earth  and  Air. 


XLIV. 

The  file,  the  Council  House  around 

Was  ranged  : — first,  Yu-we-lon-doh  high, 
Looking  the  Brave,  his  actions  showed ; 

The  bear-skinned  Prophet  next  him  frowned, 
Upon  the  Orient  fixed  his  eye  ; 

And  then,  with  sight  that  eager  glowed, 

The  stalwart  warriors;  then  the  sires, 

Burning  with  all  their  manhood's  fires  ; 

And  last  the  women,  every  glance 

Flashing  impatient  for  the  dance. 


XLV. 

Beside  the  Council  Building's  door 
The  rude  bowl-drum  a  patriarch  bore, 
Whilst  took  a  youth  beside  him  stand, 
With  the  oris-tah-weh-salr*  in  hand. 


*  The  Indian  rattle— a  gourd  filled  with  dry  beans. 


176  FRONTENAC. 


XL  VI. 

Upon  them,  from  the  Eastern  sky, 
Looked  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  blazing  eye  ; 
His  azure  breast  was  o'er  them  gleaming 

With  clouds  in  wreaths  of  spotless  hue, 
A  band  of  his  good  genii  seeming 

The  coming  grateful  rite  to  view. 

XLVII. 

The  soft  yet  brilliant  sunshine  streamed 
On  round-topped  lodge  and  palisade  ; 

In  rising  quick  pulsations  gleamed 

O'er  the  domed  maize-fields  next  arrayed, 

And  flashed  upon  the  leafy  dress 

Of  the  encircling  wilderness. 

XLVIII. 

First,  Yu-we-lon-doh  bowed  his  head 
To  where  the  sun  its  splendor  shed, 
Then  waved  his  arm — the  drum  awoke, 
The  rattle  into  clatterings  broke  ; 
And  forward,  with  his  rocking  feet, 
The  Chief  began  the  ground  to  beat, 
Swelling  his  guttural  anthem  strain, 
Followed  by  all  the  stamping  train, 
Each  joining  in  at  every  close 
Where  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  praise  arose  ; 
Whilst  the  long  ring  the  square  around, 
Like  a  slow  coiling  serpent  wound. 


THE    STRAWBERRY    DANCE.  177 


1. 

"  Earth,  we  thank  thee  !  thy  great  frame 
Bears  the  stone  from  whence  we  came, 
And  the  boundless  sweeping  gloom, 
Of  our  glorious  League  the  home  ; 
Thou  the  strawberry's  seed  dost  fold, 
Thou  its  little  roots  dost  hold, 
First  of  all  the  fruits  that  raise 
Gifts  for  us  in  summer  days. 

Thanks,  too,  thanks  we  give  thee,  lowly, 
Hah-wen-ne-yo,  great  and  holy  ! 
Maker,  wise  !  of  all  the  sire, 
Earth  and  Water,  Air  and  Fire  ! 


2. 

"  Water,  thanks  !  we  safely  glide 
On  thy  bosom  long  and  wide  ; 
In  thy  rills  their  way  that  take 
Through  sweet  flowers  our  thirst  we  slake ; 
Thou  dost  give  the  strawberry-vine 
Drink,  when  hot  the  sunbeams  shine, 
Till  its  leaves  spread  fresh  and  bright, 
And  its  buds  burst  forth  in  white. 

Thanks,  too,  thanks  we  give  thee,  lowly, 
Hah-wen-ne-yo,  great  and  holy  ! 
Maker,  wise  !  of  all  the  sire, 
Earth  and  Water,  Air  and  Fire ! 


178  FRONTENAC. 


3. 

t(  Air,  we  thank  thee !  for  the  breeze 

Sweeping  off  the  dire  disease  ; 

Thou  dost  bring  the  gentle  rains; 

Thou  dost  cool  our  feverish  veins  ; 

Thou  dost  kiss  the  strawberry-flower 

Nestling  in  its  grassy  bower, 

Till  its  little  wreath  of  snow 

Swings  its  fragrance  to  and  fro. 

Thanks,  too,  thanks  we  give  thee,  lowly, 
Hah-wen-ne-yo,  great  and  holy  ! 
Maker,  wise  !  of  all  the  sire, 
Earth  and  Water,  Air  and  Fire  ! 


4. 

"  Fire,  we  thank  thee  !  for  thy  ball 
With  its  glory  brightening  all, 
And  the  blaze  which  warms  our  blood, 
Lights  our  weed  and  cooks  our  food, 
To  thy  glance  the  strawberry  swells 
With  its  ripening  particles, 
Till  the  fruit  is  at  our  tread 
In  its  beauty  rich  and  red. 

Thanks,  too,  thanks  we  give  thee,  lowly, 
Hah-wen-ne-yo,  great  and  holy  ! 
Maker,  wise !  of  all  the  sire, 
Earth  and  Water,  Air  and  Fire!" 


THE  CANOE  VOYAGE.  179 

XLIX. 

The  last  loud  strain  had  scarcely  died, 

When  a  light  form,  with  hurried  tread, 
Strode  to  the  panting  chieftain's  side, 

Uplifting  high  a  hatchet  red. 
A  look — a  pause  of  silence  brief, 

And  then  "  The  Atotarho  !"  rung 
In  voice  of  thunder  from  the  chief — 

Forth,  warrior,  sire,  maid,  matron,  sprung ; 
"  The  Atotarho  !"  echoed  high  ; 
It  filled  the  woods,  it  filled  the  sky, 
With  manhood's  shout,  and  woman's  cry. 

L. 

"  Hark,  Oneotas  !"*  loud  and  clear 
Now  swelled  on  every  listening  ear 
The  Atotarho's  clarion  tones — 

"  Hark  1  Yon-non-de-yoh  comes  to  tread 
Into  the  dust  your  fathers'  bones  ; 

Up,  warriors  !  ere  the  day  be  sped  I 
To  On-on-dah-gah  as  for  life, 
Agreskoue  calls  out  for  strife  [" 


THE  CANOE  VOYAGE. 

LI. 

Two  Indians  in  a  bark  canoe, 

Went  skimming  up  a  rapid  stream 

*The  Oneidas. 


180  FRONTENAC. 

That  lay  in  many  a  winding  gleam, 
The  dark  primeval  forest  through, 
Here,  on  the  brushwood-tangled  banks, 
Rose  the  tall  trees  in  column'd  ranks; 
Whilst  slanting,  there,  they  closely  wove 
A  thick  arid  bowery  roof  above. 
Frequent  some  great  elm,  undermined, 
Within  the  wave  its  boughs  inclined, 
Causing  the  water,  sliding  dark, 
To  wheel  and  fret  in  flashing  spark. 

Dead  jagged  logs  lay  all  about, 
Black  from  the  shores  protruding  out ; 
The  tips  light  tilcing  as  the  furrow 

Caused  by  the  paddles,  on  them  bore, 

Or,  as  the  musk-rat  scampered  o'er, 
Scared  by  the  dashing  to  its  burrow. 
Now  the  stream  slumbered  in  a  mass 
Of  shade,  like  polished  sable  glass  : 
And  now  it  fluttered  o'er  its  stones, 
In  hollow  and  seolian  tones. 


LII. 
The  Hah-yah-do-yah's  paddles  wide, 

With  rapid  dips  the  waters  spurn, 
Whilst  with  his  usual  look  of  pride, 

Sits  Thurenserah  at  the  stern. 
Each  side  the  climbing  laurels  spread 
Their  pink-tinged  chalices  o'erhead  ; 
Arid  now  and  then  the  thickets  fling 

So  low  across  their  sylvan  bowers, 


THE    CANOE    VOYAGE.  181 

The  Hah-yah-do-ynh's  feathers  bring 

The  spangled  dogwood's  creamy  flowers 
Showered,  like  a  sudden  fall  of  snow, 
Upon  the  wrinkled  glass  below  ; 
Whilst  in  some  sweeping  aisle  of  green, 

The  tasselled  chestnut  on  their  sight, 
Where  a  long  sunbeam  casts  its  sheen, 

Sends  flashes  quick  of  golden  light. 
The  broken,  glancing  rift  from  out, 

At  the  white  moth  low  quivering  o'er, 
Leaps  like  a  flying-fish  the  trout, 

Then  falls  with  echoing  plash  before  : 
As  threads  the  prow  some  channel  narrow, 
The  snipe  darts  from  it  like  an  arrow ; 
To  his  deep  den  of  knotted  roots 
The  otter,  a  swift  shadow,  shoots  ; 
Startled  from  his  o'erhanging  limb, 

The  blue  kingfisher  leaves  the  flood  ; 
Wades  from  the  marge  the  heron  slim, 

The  gorgeous  sheldrake  seeks  the  wood. 


LIII. 

But  thickets,  spotted  all  around, 

Dividing  into  threads  the  course, 
Till  scarce  a  struggling  way  is  found, 

Proclaim  them  near  the  river's  source 
And  scarce  the  shallow  waters  now 
Float  e'en  their  bubble  of  a  prow, 
They  seek  the  marge,  the  bark  they  lift 
9 


182  FRONTENAC. 

O'er  Deo-wain-sta*  tread  they  swift, 
Threading  the  solemn  trees  that  rise 
In  shapes  majestic  to  the  skies  ; 
And  in  the  stooping  light  they  glide 
Down  wild  O-wah-nah-dah-gah'sf  tide, 
That  steals,  with  broader  breast,  between 
The  same  close  wilderness  of  green. 
Over  this  wide  magnificence, 

Laced  by  the  bright  meandering  streak, 
Solitude  broods  unbroke,  intense, 

Save  when  some  speeding  eagle's  shriek 
Startles  the  air,  or  howl  of  wolf 
Issues  from  some  black  bordering  gulf. 


LIV. 

Now  liquid  alleys  pass  they  through, 

Midst  sylvan  islets  set  so  near 
That,  frighted  by  the  swift  canoe, 

From  one  another  leaps  the  deer. 
From  tree-top  to  its  opposite 
They  see  the  flying-squirrel  flit 
Slant  on  its  membrane  wings  across 
The  narrowed  strip  of  ruffled  gloss, 
Then,  down  the  sparkling  frothing  rift, 
The  quivering  bark  shoots  free  and  swift, 
The  Hah-yah-do-yah's  ready  skill 


*  Deo-wain-sta  is  the  Iroquois  name  for  the  Portage  between  Wood  Creek  and 
the  Mohawk  River. 
t  O-wah-nah-dah-gah  is  the  Iroquois  name  for  the  Mohawk  River. 


THE    CANOE    VOYAGE.  183 

Wielding  the  frail  light  thing  at  will ; 
The  pointed  rock  avoiding  now, 

Foam,  like  some  angry  bear's  tusk,  churning, 
In  its  blind  pathway,  then  the  prow, 

As  if  by  instinct,  safely  turning. 


LV. 

As  sunset  flushed  the  sky  with  red, 
They  came  to  where  a  lakelet  spread, 
With  domes  of  clay  'twas  spotted  o'er, 

Where  beavers  plunged  and  skimmed  the  wave, 
Whilst  others,  busily  on  the  shore, 

The  sapling  gnawed,  or  dragging,  gave 
Its  leafy  honors  to  the  tide, 
Toward  the  twined  dam  their  prize  to  guide  ; 
But  as  the  bark  amidst  them  passed, 
The  sentry  struck  his  blow,  and  fast 
Amidst  a  shower  of  strokes  all  vanished, 
Till  every  sight,  and  sound  were  banished 
Of  the  late  bustling  scene  to  tell, 
With  silence  settling  like  a  spell, 
Whilst  passed  the  prow  the  lakelet  calm, 
And,  bowing,  crossed  the  crashing  dam. 


LVI. 

Then,  as  the  night  its  shadows  wrought, 
The  dim  tree-slanted  brink  they  sought, 
Where  some  wide  spruce  above  them  bent 
Its  bristling  branches  for  a  tent ; 


184  FRONTENAC. 

And  slumbered  till  the  morning  came 
Firing  the  heavens  with  cheerful  flame, 
And  sent  them  once  more  on  their  way, 
With  woods  and  waters  glittering  gay. 


THE  MOHAWK'S  SCALP  DANCE, 

LVII. 

At  last,  as  in  the  glowing  west 
The  sun  once  more  rolled  down  its  crest, 
They  came  to  where  a  creek  laid  down, 
At  the  broad  stream,  its  subject  crown. 
Upon  the  bank,  with  maizefields  green, 
An  Indian  palisade  was  seen ; 
Between  it  and  the  brink,  a  ring 

Of  painted  Braves  e'en  now  was  forming  ; 
As  sought  the  bark  a  bush — the  swing 

Began,  the  dance  each  moment  warming  ; 
Till,  while  the  drum  gave  measured  stroke, 
The  scalp-song  of  the  warriors  woke. 


1. 

"  Whoop  the  whoop !  dance  the  dance  ! 
Let  the  knife  and  hatchet  glance  ! 
Peal  aloud,  aloud,  the  strain  ! 
Pequod  dogs  !  they  mourn  their  slain  ! 
Whoop  !  whoop  !  trie  Pequod  dogs, 
How  they  seek  the  clustered  bogs  ! 


THE  MOHAWK'S  SCALP  DANCE.  185 

Wave  their  bloody  scalps  on  high  ! 
Pequod  dogs  !  how  low  they  lie  ! 
Whoop  !  whoop  !  the  ground  is  red ! 
Pequod  dogs !  they  mourn  their  dead  ! 

Great  Agreskoue  !  to  thee 

Swells  our  song  of  victory ! 


2. 

"  See  our  war-path  !  far  it  winds, 
Pequod  hunting-grounds  it  finds  ; 
Scarce  our  mark  on  earth  we  make  ; 
Now  we  glide  as  glides  the  snake. 
Pequod  dogs  are  slumbering  deep, 
Near,  still  near,  more  near  we  creep : 
Now  we  climb  the  palisades ; 
Not  a  sound  the  air  invades. 
Whoop,  whoop !  crash,  crash  ! 
In  the  lodges  now  we  dash ! 
Whoop !  whoop  !  our  hatchets  fly, 
Gleam  our  knives !  They  die  !  They  die  ! 
Whoop  !  whoop !  their  scalps  we  wrench  ! 
Blood  in  streams  their  castle  drench  ! 
Pequod  dogs,  like  leaves  around — 
See  !  they  pile  the  very  ground  ! 
See  !  they  bend  like  women  now  ! 
Whoop  !  our  foot  is  on  their  brow  ! 

Great  Agreskoue  !  to  thee 

Swells  our  song  of  victory ! 


186  FRONTENAC. 


LVIII. 

Ere  the  last  shrill-toned  echo  sank, 
A  figure  climbed  the  shelving  bank, 
Holding  a  tomahawk  on  high, 
Gleaming  in  deepest  vermeil  dye. 
"  The  Atotarho  !"  loudly  sounded 
From  every  lip,  and  toward  him  bounded 
Ye-an-te-kah-noh.* 

"Mohawks,  hear!" 

The  Atotarho  uttered  shrill — 

"  Your  battle-whoops  peal  louder  still, 
To  red  Agreskoue  so  dear. 
Braves !  Yon-non-de-yoh  comes !     His  feet 

Are  on  the  war-path !     Men  of  blood  ! 

To  On-on-dah-gah  like  a  flood 
This  Matchi-Manitouf  to  meet ! 
Away  !  stern  Bears !  in  all  your  might, 
Ere  on  ye  dawns  again  the  light ! 


*  Ye-an-te  kah-noh  means  a  "War-club"  in  the  Mohawk  tongue, 
t  Matchi-Manitou,  "  Bad  Spirit." 


END    OF    CANTO    SIXTH. 


CANTO   SEVENTH. 


THE  MARCH. 
THE  WAR  DANCE. 
THE  COUNCIL. 


THE  QUARREL. 
THE  PRIESTESS. 
THE  SACRED  FLAME. 


CANTO  SEVENTH, 


THE    MARCH. 


DAYS  sped  along,  the  rude  flotilla  traced 
The  shoreward  waters  of  Ontario's  waste. 
Up  the  Oswego's  narrow  rapid  tide 
With  struggling  efforts  the  invaders  glide ; 
On  either  hand  the  crowded  forests  gave 
A  sombre  darkness  to  the  rushing  wave  ; 
Banner  and  cannon,  pike  and  cuirass  cast 
Unwonted  glitterings  as  the  foemen  passed  ; 
Upon  the  oak-tree's  scaly  breast  they  flashed, 
Out  with  a  scream  the  startled  eagle  dashed, 
"Within  the  thicket's  depths  a  gleam  they  flung ; 
Forth  with  a  snort  the  browrn  bear  awkward  sprung, 
Quick  slid  the  otter  down  the  shelving  brink, 
Back  shrank  the  doe  and  fawn  about  to  drink, 
The  beavers  plunged  within  each  mud-built  hut, 
As  through  their  dam  of  trees  a  path  was  cut. 
Ha !  look,  proud  Frontenac  !  upon  yon  tree 
The  haughty  savage  still  casts  scorn  at  thee ! 
Drawn  on  its  naked  wood  in  tints  of  red 
Thou,  with  the  warriors  of  thy  host,  art  spread  ; 
9* 


190  FRONTENAC. 

Whilst  at  the  roots  the  bundled  rushes  show 
The  stern  defiance  of  thy  tawny  foe. 


ii. 

Broader  gl earnings  upon  them  break, 

Through  the  thick  forest — "The  lake,  the  lake!' 

Over  its  wide  and  lucid  glass 

Gallantly,  swiftly,  now  they  pass  ; 

Dash  and  ripple,  and  ripple  and  dash, 

How  the  depths  tumble,  and  sparkle,  and  flash  ! 

Hushed  so  the  silence,  at  every  sound 

Echo  is  up  and  away  at  a  bound  ; 

Solitude  tangible  seems  to  their  gaze, 

Starting  from  sleep  to  shrink  back  in  amaze; 

Hundreds  of  water-fowl  rise  from  the  sheet, 

Screaming  aud  soaring  on  pinions  fleet ; 

In  the  deep  waters  of  purest  green, 

Fishes  in  myriad  swarms  are  seen  ; 

Along  the  margin,  a  tract  of  white 

Glitters  like  silver  beneath  the  light. 

A  shout  went  up, — were  the  old  dreams  true  ? 

Was  treasure  there  flashing  its  dazzling  hue  ? 

Boat  after  boat  to  the  margin  shot, 

Numbers  thronged  to  the  sparkling  spot ; 

And  the  salt  springs  shone  to  their  curious  eye, 

Mantling  all  over  their  pearly  die. 

But  away  at  last  the  sunbeams  shrank, 

And  the  whole  fleet  moored  to  the  marshy  bank. 


THE    WAR    DANCE.  191 

Night  closes  round,  the  splendid  moonlight  beams  : 
The  leaf-roofed  tents  are  chequered  with  the  gleams  ; 
Beneath  the  gorgeous  diadem  of  the  skies 
The  whole  wide  scene  in  delicate  beauty  lies  ; 
One  blaze  of  silver  Gar-noh-gwe-yoh  glows, 
Its  bosom  hushed  in  beautiful  repose  ; 
Midst  the  grand  woods  the  light  its  quiet  weaves, 
Save  where  the  watch-fires  gleam  in  crimson  through  the 
leaves. 


THE  WAR-DANCE. 

IV. 

The  mellow  sunset  glow  that  lay 
On  Frontenac's  debarked  array, 
The  On-on-dah-gah  Hollow  too, 
Suffused  with  soft  and  lovely  hue. 
The  maize-fields  wore  a  roseate  flush, 
The  placid  stream  displayed  a  blush, 
While  the  surrounding  forests  seemed 
As  if  with  slanted  spears  they  gleamed. 

• 
v. 

Swarms  of  dark  figures  roamed  around 
Within  the  castle's  spacious  bound. 
The  warriors  of  the  League  had  all 
Obeyed  their  Atotarho's  call. 
The  Mohawk,  oldest  brother  keeping 


192  FRONTENAC. 

Watch  the  Long  House's  east  porch  o'er  ; 
The  fierce,  wild  Seneca,  unsleeping, 

Making  his  breast  the  western  door  ; 
The  Oneida,  offspring  of  the  stone, 
The  mother  now  alas  left  lone ; 
And  the  Cayuga  from  that  flood, 
Whose  hue  seemed  from  the  summer  wood. 


VI. 

Of  the  eight  Totems,  one  each  breast 

Displayed,  in  blue  tattoo  impressed. 

Here  crawled  the  TORTOISE,  glared  the  BEAR  ; 

The  WOLF  there  lurked  within  his  lair  ; 

The  CRANE  on  slender  limb  stood  here, 

Here  bowed  the  snipe,  there  leaped  the  DEER  ; 

The  BEAVER  here  made  waddling  walk, 

And  high  in  air  there  soared  the  HAWK, 

While  frequently  was  seen  the  mark 
Of  the  HO-NONT-KOH  next  the  other, 
Which  none  decyphered  but  a  brother  ; 

Order  mysterious,  secret,  dark ! 

Each  making  (all  save  this  unknown, 

And  this  by  only  actions  shown,) 

The  other's  weal  or  woe  his  own. 

The  Atotarho  was  its  head  : 

And  through  the  League  its  members  spread, 

The  head  Chiefs  of  the  other  nations 

Holding  within  next  highest  stations^ 

Save  A-ga-yen-teh  who  kept  free, 

From  craftiest,  basest  policy. 


THE     WAR    DANCE.  193 


VII. 

All  at  their  backs  the  hatchet  bore, 
The  curved  knife  keenly  gleamed  before. 
War-paint  on  every  face  was  spread, 

Though  showed  the  form  the  naked  skin, 
Save  the  blue  waist-cloth,  legging  red, 

And  the  rich  quill- worked  moccasin. 
Fusees  were  in  each  hand,  each  eye 

Was  flashing  fierce  with  swarthy  fire  ; 
All  showed  that  danger  threatening  nigh, 

Had  roused  their  deepest  martial  ire. 
Whilst  womanhood,  age,  childhood  lay 

Within  the  Oneidas'  neighboring  woods, 
Until  the  storm  should  sweep  away, 

Now  rising  o'er  their  solitudes. 

VIII. 

In  the  broad  square  a  post  was  placed 

With  stripes  of  red — war's  hue — arrayed, 

Save  in  one  spot  where,  rudely  traced, 
Was  the  League's  coat  of  arms  displayed. 

Five  Braves  that  in  a  circle  stood 

With  hands  tight  grasped  in  one  another's 
A  heart  amidst  them — Tribal  brothers, 

Banded  in  one  firm  brotherhood. 

IX. 

The  broad  moon's  sweet  delicious  light 
Began  to  bathe  the  summer  night ; 


J94  FRONTENAC. 

Upon  their  domes  the  maize-plants  glowed, 
The  stream  a  track  of  diamonds  showed, 
And  the  still,  windless  forests  stood 
Entranced  within  the  pearly  flood. 


x. 

As  the  sky  kindled  to  the  moon's  rich  flame, 

Within  the  area  throngs  of  warriors  came ; 

Around  the  post  in  mazy  file  they  wound, 

Then  couched  in  rings  successive  on  the  ground, 

Within,  two  gaunt  and  withered  figures  sat, 

With  drum  and  rattle,  each  upon  his  mat, 

Whilst  upward  streamed  in  one  high  ruddy  spire 

Beside  the  post  the  usual  war-dance  fire. 

The  dusky  ring  wore  looks  of  fixed  repose, 

Until  at  last  a  tall  young  warrior  rose  ; 

With  hatchet,  knife,  and  war-club  armed  was  he, 

A  snowy  mantle  falling  to  his  knee 

Upon  his  breast  the  totem  of  the  BEAR, 

The  Ho-nont-koh  stripe  too,  placed  conspicuous  there 

Midst  record  of  his  deeds,  one  crimson  blaze  ; 

Dress  worn  alone  on  most  momentous  days  ! 

'Twas  the  young  Atotarho  !  slow  and  grave 

He  reached  the  fire,  and  then  one  whoop  he  gave, 

And,  as  his  brow  grew  dark,  and  wild  his  glance, 

He  broke  into  a  stamping  swinging  dance  ; 

From  right  to  left  he  went,  the  hollow  beat 

Of  the  ga-nu-jah  echoing  to  his  feet 

Chaunting  in  measure  to  his  rocking  frame, 

Whilst  from  the  two  old  forms  a  ceaseless  droning  came. 


THE    WAR    DANCE.  195 

"  Thurenserah  smiles  to  hear 
Agreskoue  within  his  ear 
Whisper,  '  Warrior,  foes  are  near  !' 
I  '11  eat  their  flesh,  I  '11  drink  their  blood ! 
Eagle,  there  '11  be  dainty  food 
When  thou  stoopest  to  the  wood ! 
Thurenserah  smiles  to  know 
Blood  shall  at  his  hatchet  flow ; 
Blood,  blood,  a  crimson  flood; 
Thurenserah  smiles  to  hear 
Agreskoue  within  his  ear 
Whisper,  '  Warrior,  foes  are  near  !' 
Hooh  !  whoop !  foes  are  near ! 
Whisper,  '  Warrior,  foes  are  near  !' 


"  Bends  Agreskoue  his  crest 

At  the  deeds  upon  my  breast, 

Fifty  death-screams  have  I  woke ! 

Fifty  scalps  are  in  my  smoke  I 

I  '11  eat  their  flesh,  I  '11  drink  their  blood  ! 

Frenchmen  will  be  plenteous  food 

For  the  eagle  in  the  wood  ; 

Thurenserah  listens  low, 

In  the  grass  he  hears  the  foe, 

Quick  he  seeks  the  ambush  !  see  ! 

Now  he  's  aiming  the  fusee  ! 

Now  he  fires — the  foe  is  dead — 

Off  his  dripping  scalp  is  shred — 

Now  beside  the  lodge  he  creeps — 

Hush !  within,  the  foeman  sleeps — 


19G  FKONTENAC. 

Whoop  !  he  dashes  down  the  door ! 

Whoop  !  the  foeman  drops  in  gore  '. 

Whoop  !  the  wife  beside  him  dies  ! 

Whoop  !  beside  the  infant  lies  ! 

Whoop  !  whoop  !  whoop  !  the  torch  is  gleaming  ! 

See  !  whoop  !  see  !  the  lodge  is  streaming  ! 

I  '11  eat  their  flesh  !  I  '11  drink  their  blood ! 

Blood,  blood,  a  crimson  flood  '. 

Tlmrenserah  smiles  to  hear 

Footsteps  sounding  in  his  ear, 

Telling  that  the  foe  is  near  ; 

Hooh !  whoop  !  the  foe  is  near. 
Telling  that  the  foe  is  near." 


XI. 

Thus  far  the  strain  had  made  advance, 

When  forth  dark  A-ga-yen-teh  bounded, 
And  joining  in  the  stamping  dance, 

His  war-song  too  he  loudly  sounded. 
Then  Yu-we-lon-doh  at  his  back, 
And  Ka-i-na-tra  in  his  track, 
Ye-an-te-kah-noh  following  him, 
And  then  Ska-nux-heh  fierce  and  grim, 
Till  the  first  ring  of  Braves  was  springing 
Wildly  around,  all  wildly  singing  ; 
Their  limbs  in  strange  contortions  flinging, 
Plunging  their  knives,  their  hatchets  swinging, 
Whilst  rose  the  chaunt,  and  thrilled  the  yell, 
And  on  the  post  the  war-club  fell. 


THE    COUNCIL.  197 


XII. 

And  now  the  mimic  fight  begun  ; 
They  strike,  they  scalp,  they  meet,  they  shun, 
They  creep  on  the  earth,  and  they  bend  on  the  knee, 
Tomahawk  launching,  and  aiming  fusee, 
Pealing  their  war-whoops,  and  striking  their  blows, 
As  in  eye  to  eye,  hand  to  hand,  strife  with  their  foes  ; 
The  shake  of  the  rattle,  the  drum's  rapid  beat, 
Blending  with  weapon  clash,  war-shout  and  feet ; 
Till,  faint  with  exhaustion,  they  reel  from  the  ring, 
Whilst  others  impatient,  in  place  of  them  spring. 
On  went  the  war-dance — the  beautiful  moon 
Poured  down  the  sweet  quiet  smile  from  her  noon  ; 
On  went  the  war-dance — she  stooped  to  the  west ; 
On  went  the  war-dance — she  shrouded  her  crest ; 
And  not  till  the  east  was  made  bright  with  the  sun, 
Did  the  lone  silent  spot  tell  the  war-dance  was  done. 


THE  COUNCIL. 

XIII. 

The  glorious  day  resumed  its  bright  dominion  ; 
Hues,  such  as  tremble  o'er  the  flashing  pinion 
Of  the  archangel  nearest  to  the  throne, 
Along  the  rim  of  the  horizon  shone. 
Now  the  rich  colors  deepen  in  the  sky, 
Now  the  hill-pines  have  caught  a  golden  dye, 


198  FRONTENAC. 

And  now  a  glorious  burst  of  light 

Makes  the  whole  sylvan  landscape  bright ; 

Leaves  in  the  downy-winged  breezes  quiver ; 

Mist  curls  up  from  the  dimpling  river  ; 

And  out  breaks  dew-spangled  thicket  and  tree 

Into  a  chorus  of  harmony. 

XIV. 

Now  was  displayed  to  many  a  gaze 

An  Indian  coming  through  the  maize. 

A  nearer  view,  "  We-ah-dah  !"  high 

Arose  the  joyful  welcome  cry  ; 

The  warriors  rushed  to  meet  him,  each 

With  outstretched  hand  and  kindliest  speech, 

For,  towering  in  the  tribe,  stood  he 

A  Brave  of  wide  authority  ; 

His  a  strong  heart  that  ne'er  had  dropped, 

His  a  proud  soul  that  ne'er  had  stooped. 

xv. 

He  strode  along  with  hasty  tread 

And  in  his  cowering  look  was  dread, 

Dread  blent  with  shame  as  if  he  strove 

To  lift  his  heart  the  fear  above, 

But  could  not ;  still,  whilst  welcomes  warm 

Gave  the  glad  warriors,  crowding  nigh, 
He  for  the  instant,  reared  his  form, 

As  in  his  past  days  flashed  his  eye, 
And,  with  his  usual  meiri,  he  gave 
Salute  in  turn  to  every  Brave. 


THE    COUNCIL.  199 

And  gone  the  craven  sign  that  must 
At  the  first  sight  have  roused  distrust 
Had  they  not  in  the  unlooked-for  meeting 
Of  nothing  thought  but  joy  of  greeting, 
For  on  We-an-dah  every  breast 
Reposed  in  full  implicit  rest ; 
And  all  were  filled  with  deep  delight 

That  he,  escaping  from  the  foe, 
Had  come  to  aid  them  with  his  might 

At  Yon-non-de-yoh's  threatened  blow. 
Ah,  forest  Chieftain  !  noble  Brave ! 

Wert  thou  indeed  so  mean  a  thing ! 
Better  have  filled  a  warrior's  grave 

Thou  Eagle  with  a  broken  wing ! 


XVI. 

Where  the  grim  war-dance  lately  whirled  around 
Once  more  the  warriors  crouched  upon  the  ground  ; 
The  tints  retouched  on  every  thoughtful  face 
And  every  weapon  quiet  in  its  place  ; 
Sachems,  and  those  in  years  and  wisdom  old 
Whose  thoughts  in  council  had  been  often  told, 
And  Braves  whose  deeds  amidst  their  enemies 
Were  traced  in  crimson  on  the  annal-trees, 
And  by  the  old  men  of  the  nations  laid 
In  memory  deep  for  song,  the  circles  made  ; 
Whilst  gathered  throngs  around  these  circles,  some 
Striking  the  war-post,  but  in  council  dumb  ; 
Some  neither  known  for  wisdom  or  for  deed, 
The  others,  youths,  who  glowed  for  glory's  meed. 


200  FRONTENAC. 


XVII. 


Upon  a  rich  beaver-skin  was  set 

The  gorgeous  pride  of  the  Calumet : 

As  the  light  touched  its  feathers,  like  sunlit  dews, 

It  glittered  all  over  with  flashing  hues. 

Beside,  shone  the  flame  of  the  council,  its  gleams 

Ghastly  and  pale  in  the  morning's  beams. 


XVIII. 

Head  of  the  circle,  on  a  rich  stained  mat 

With  his  proud  look,  the  Atotarho  sat. 

At  length  a  sign  he  gave,  and  forward  came 
The  Hah-yah-do-yah  with  a  torch  of  flame, 

Who  seized  the  Calumet,  and  with  the  weed 
Filled  the  red  bowl  and  kindled  it;  as  through 
The  air  meandered  the  light  wreaths  of  blue, 

He  pointed  toward  the  sun  the  feathered  reed, 

Then  toward  the  earth,  and  then  around  in  air ; 

The  first  imploring  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  care, 

The  next  to  sooth  dark  Hah-ne-go-ate-geh, 

The  last  to  make  all  evil  Genii  flee ; 

To  Thurenserah  then  the  pipe  he  gave, 

Toward  heaven,  on  earth,  the  smoky  volumes  wave ; 

Then  to  We-an-dah  next  the  Chieftain  seated, 

Who  the  same  solemn  offering  act  repeated ; 

To  A-ga-yen-teh  then,  the  next  beside, 

Till  the  rich  bauble  passed  the  circuit  wide. 


THE    COUNCIL.  201 

Then  rose  We-an-dah,  now  his  mien  was  high, 

Yet  quick  and  restless  oped  and  shut  his  eye, 

And  as  with  dignity  his  arm  he  spread 

"  We-an-dah  greets  the  Atotarho  !"  said. 

"  In  Yon-non-de-yoh's  dungeon  dark  and  lone, 

We-an-dah  languished  like  a  toad  in  stone, 

Until  he  blinded  Yon-non-de-yoh's  eyes, 

For  the  fox  learned  We-an-dah  to  be  wise  : 

He  sang  a  song  in  Yon-non-de-yoh's  ear, 

For  oft  he  's  stopped  the  mocking-bird  to  hear ; 

He  spun  a  web  meant  only  to  beguile, 

For  oft  he  's  watched  the  cunning  spider's  toil; 

On  Yon-non-de-yoh  smiled  his  lips,  not  heart, 

Until  he  bade  him  from  his  cell  depart, 

Placed  him  a  brother  at  his  hated  side, 

And  of  his  host  then  wished  him  to  be  guide  ; 

We-an-dah  would  not  lead  their  bloody  tread, 

And  when  night  filled  their  eyes  with  slumber,  fled 

Great  Atotarho!  'tis  We-an-dah  speaks  ! 

A  warrior's  paint  is  glowing  on  his  cheeks, 

He  in  the  dance  a  warrior's  deeds  has  sung, 

He  is  no  snake  !  lies  sit  not  on  his  tongue ! 

We-an-dah  says  then,  fly  !  wait  not  the  foe  ! 

In  crushing  wrath  will  fall  his  dreadful  blow. 

See'st  thou  yon  leaves? — as  thick  his  warriors  crowd 

With  their  great  guns  that  speak  such  thunder  loud  ; 

Balls  too  that  falling  burst  in  flames,  and  dash 

Destruction  round  them  like  the  lightning's  flash  ; 

Stockade  and  lodge  will  shrivel  at  their  breath, 

And  every  warrior  find  a  speedy  death." 


202  FRONTENAC. 


XIX. 

He  ceased — low  guttural  sounds  ran  through 

The  startled  circle  ;  eye  sought  eye 
In  doubt ;  each  thoughtful  visage  grew 

Darker,  as  though  the  very  sky 
Had  with  a  sudden  drop  let  fall 
Over  the  scene  a  shadowy  pall. 
That  he,  We-an-dah,  thus  should  speak, 

The  valiant  warrior,  just  and  true ! 

Whose  spirit  like  an  eagle  flew, 
It  made  their  hearts  turn  faint  and  weak. 
Glances  began  to  falter  round, 
Ears  bent  as  if  on  distant  sound, 
And,  midst  the  outer  dense  array, 
Movements  began  to  gather  way, 
As  though  to  scatter  in  dismay. 
But  Thurenserah  rose,  his  arm 
He  waved  ;  it  was  as  if  a  charm 
Held  the  assemblage  ;  every  eye 

Was  fixed  upon  him  as  he  stood, 
And  looked  around  him  proud  and  high, 

As  though  to  shame  their  fearful  mood  ; 
Then,  striding  in  mid-ring,  he  spoke 
In  tones  that  fire  in  all  awoke. 


xx. 

"  Sachems  and  warriors !  can  it  be 

You  tremble  at  an  enemy  ? 

What !  Ongue-Honwee  crouching  low 


THE    COCTNCII*  203 

In  fear  before  the  threatened  blow  ! 
Shall  a  few  paltry  words  of  air 
Down  to  the  dust  your  courage  bear  1 
Have  you  not  grasped  the  hatchet  red  ? 

Have  you  not  struck  the  battle-post  ? 
Scarce  have  you  ceased  your  war-dance  tread ! 

Scarce  echo  of  your  songs  is  lost ! 
Shame,  warriors  of  the  Long  House  !  shame  1 
Scorn  Yon-non-de-yoh's  thunder-flame, 
Have  you  forgot  that  here  is  burning 

The  pure  Ho-de-no-sonne  fire  ? 
Rather  than,  from  its  splendor  turning, 
Leave  it  to  Yon-non-de-yoh's  spurning, 

Around  it  glad  should  all  expire  ! 
See !  its  smoke  streams  before  your  eye 
Like  Hah-wen-ne-yoh's  scalp-lock  high  ! 
Remember,  far  as  step  your  feet 
From  Winter's  snow  to  Summer's  heat, 
Scatter  the  tribes  like  frightened  deer ; 

And  e'en  where'er  we  turn  our  brow, 
The  boldest  young  men  shake  with  fear, 

The  woods  as  though  with  tempests  bow. 
How  often  has  the  Great  White  Bird 

Seen  us  returning  from  our  path 
Loaded  with  scalps,  and,  joyful,  heard 

The  songs  that  told  our  warrior  wrath. 
Senecas!  in  the  month  of  SIKRVS 

Our  old  men  chaunt  that  time  of  pride, 
When  the  last  Yon-non-de-yoh  rose, 

To  dash  beneath  his  wrathful  stride 
Ye — the  strong,  the  fast-closed,  mighty  door 


204  FRONTENAC. 

Of  our  Long  House,  within  to  tread  ; 

No  Ho-ne-ho-ont  basely  fled, 
But  bloody  Yon-non-de-yoh  tore 
His  flesh  amidst  your  briers,  till  lame, 
Wearied,  and  frightened  he  became  ; 
And  like  a  footsore  dog  he  turned 
From  a  few  huts  and  cornfields  burned, 
Back  on  his  war-path,  whilst  ye  hung 
Your  pole  with  scalps — your  songs  ye  sung. 

xxr. 

"  Gwe-u-gwes !  often  have  ye  fought 

Beneath  your  Atotarho's  eye  ! 
Glorious  have  been  the  deeds  you  've  wrought, 

Gwe-u-gwes  !  Braves  !  ye  will  not  fly  ! 

XXII. 

"  Oft  Oneotas  !  on  your  path 
The  Atotarho's  seen  your  wrath, 
When  breast  to  breast  the  foe  you  've  met, 
He  ne'er  has  seen  ye  falter  yet. 

XXIII. 

11  Mohawks  !  stern  men  of  blood  !  ne'er  ye 

Have  fled  before  your  enemy  ! 

From  Hah-rah's  drift-wood  stream,  to  where 

The  Pequods  on  the  salt  waves  sail, 
Your  scalp-whoops  oft  have  filled  the  air, 

There  oft  has  led  yonr  bloody  trail. 
Fierce  Bears  !  shall  Yon-non-de-yoh  say 
'  Women !'  to  ye,  '  away,  away !' 


THE    COUNCIL.  205 

XXIV. 

"  Last,  On-on-dah-gahs  !  always  true  ! 
Proud  people  of  the  hills !  to  you 
Your  Atotarho  speaks  ; — the  knife 

Of  Yon-non-de-yoh  gleams  above 

This  your  own  castle  ;  let  your  love 
Be  shown  for  it  in  deadliest  strife. 
Remember  !  in  yon  palisade 
Your  fathers'  sacred  bones  are  laid, 
Oft  has  De-kan-e-so-ra's  voice 
Of  music  made  your  souls  rejoice. 
If  from  Skeu-ec-ta-da  his  speech 
Upon  the  wind  your  ear  could  reach, 
How  would  it  echo  to  your  heart  ? 
My  On-on-dah-gahs  !  act  your  part 
As  should  ye,  when  upon  his  path 
Comes  Yon-non-de-yoh  in  his  wrath, 
And  his  stern  hand  with  torch  of  red 
Is  raised  above  your  castle's  head. 
Heart  of  the  League  !  which  holds  the  glow 
Of  the  pure  flame  !  ye  '11  brave  the  foe  ! 


XXV. 

"  Grasp  all  then  tomahawk  and  knife, 
AmiJst  the  leaves  like  serpents  hide, 
As  Yon-non-de-yoh  comes  in  pride  ; 

Then  leap  like  wild  cats  to  the  strife. 

And  our  deep  forest's  frowning  gloom 

Will  rest  on  Yon-non-de-yoh's  tomb." 
10 


206  FRONTENAC. 


XXVI. 

He  ceased — the  wild  "  yo-hah"  burst  out 
From  the  whole  crowd  in  blended  shout, 
Their  flashing  weapons  waved  about ; 
Away  their  sudden  panic  bore, 

Up  rose  their  faltering  hearts  again, 
And  their  stern  native  pride  once  more 

Ilushed  back  to  all  its  former  reign. 


XXVII. 

Next,  Sken-an-do-ah*  slowly  went 

Within  the  ring,  looked  slowly  round — 
Each  weapon  fell,  sunk  every  sound, 

And  every  eye  was  on  him  bent. 

The  Atotarho,  whilst  the  thrall 

Of  childhood  Thurenserah  claimed, 
High  as  a  chieftain  was  he  famed, 

Wise  too  and  just,  and  loved  by  all. 

XXVIII. 

"  Sixty  long  years  have  in  their  flight 

My  scalp-lock  streaked  with  threads  of  white, 

But  never,"  said  he,  "  have  these  eyes 

Beheld  a  chief  so  great  and  wise 

As  Thurenserah  ;  to  his  words 

Listen ;  they  come  like  songs  of  birds 

In  time  of  blossoms  to  my  ear, 

* '»  The  Deer"  in  the  On-on-dah-gah  tongue. 


THE     aUARREL.  207 

My  arm  to  nerve,  my  soul  to  cheer. 
Dread  Yon-non-de-yoh's  thunder  !  who 

Will  in  this  ring  of  warriors  stand, 
And  own  his  heart  e'er  fainter  grew 

At  death  ;  shall  Yon-non-de-yoh's  hand" — 
And  here  his  stern  and  flashing  eye 

Rolled  round  the  ring  in  scornful  glow, 

"  Scare  us  with  his  uplifted  blow 
From  where  our  fathers'  ashes  lie  ? 
No !  let  his  great  guns  shake  our  woods, 
We  '11  crouch  within  their  solitudes  ; 
And,  as  comes  on  his  haughty  tread, 

From  tree  and  bush  our  shots  will  gleam, 

And  in  his  bosom's  dearest  stream, 
Our  knives  and  hatchets  will  be  red  1" 


THE  QUARUEL. 

XXIX. 

At  the  brave  Sken-an-do-ah's  close, 

Again  the  deep  "yo-hah!"  arose. 

But  whilst  each  savage  eye  w,as  beaming 

With  thoughts  that  for  a  time  had  slept, 
And  knife  and  tomahawk  were  gleaming, 

Up  frowning  A-ga-yen-teh  stepped. 
In  all  its  foulest  venom  now 
His  soul  sat  coiled  upon  his  brow  ; 
Away  had  vanished  caution's  power 

That  held  his  face  and  tongue  alike, 


208  FRONTENAC. 

For  now  he  thought  had  come  the  hour, 
The  Atotarho  down  to  strike. 


XXX. 

"  Brothers  !  when  frowns  the  tempest-cloud, 
And  lightnings  gleam  as  air  grows  black, 

The  very  eagle  fierce  and  proud, 

Sweeping  high  up  in  boundless  track, 

Turns  his  keen  pinions  to  the  peak, 

Ere  the  wild  storm  its  wrath  shall  wreak. 

When  the  red  flame  with  flash  and  roar, 
Wrapping  the  crackling  woods  is  near, 

The  famished  panther  flies  before, 

E'en  though  beneath  him  lies  the  deer ; 

Brothers  !  stern  Yon-non-de-yoh's  wrath 

Will,  like  the  tempest,  sweep  our  path, 

Like  the  red  flame  will  burn  his  eye  ; 
A  bird  is  singing  in  my  ear, 
1  Death  and  destruction  hover  near, 

Wait  not  the  foe  !  fly,  brothers,  fly  !'  " 

XXXI. 

"  Coward!"  a  fierce  keen  voice  rang  out, 
And  Thurenserah  with  his  shout, 

High  bounding  to  his  warrior  sped  ; 
In  frenzied  fury  blazed  his  look, 
For  rage  the  very  hatchet  shook, 

He  held  above  his  head  ; 
"  Back !  am  I  not,  base  creeping  thing, 
Thy  Atotarho,  and  thy  king  ? 


THE    QUARREL.  209 

Back  from  my  sight !"  terrific  flame 
From  A-ga-yen-teh's  eye-balls  came. 

"  He  will  not  back  !  he  scorns  thy  pride!" 
"  Then  die,  foul  dog !"  the  hatchet  fell, 
And  headlong  with  a  broken  yell 

The  traitor  fell  and  died. 
Up  to  their  feet  the  circle  sprung, 
The  outer  crowd  a  moment  hung 
Bewildered,  then  tumultuous  swung, 

Like  some  great  billow  in  ; 
Voice  upon  voice  contending  rose, 
Eye  flashed  to  eye  like  mortal  foes, 
And  now  and  then  came  sound  of  blows, 

But,  pealing  o'er  the  din, 
The  tones  of  Thurenserah  bore  : 
"  Braves !  Yon-non-de-yoh  is  before ! 
Your  Atotarho  calls  once  more, 

To  ambush  for  the  foe  !" 
A  crowd  of  warriors  round  him  pressed, 
The  Ho-nont-koh  stripe  on  every  breast, 
Fierce  eye,  spread  nostril,  towering  crest, 

Showing  their  martial  glow. 
Just  then,  from  out  the  jostling  throng, 
A  rapid  hatchet  whirled  along 
Close  to  his  ear,  and  bounded  nigh 
A  warrior  with  a  wrhoop,  and  cry — 
"  Revenge!" — 'Twas  A-ga-yen-teh's  brother; 
On  sprang  another — then  another — 
And  still  another  ;  flame  on  wind 

Not  sooner  wraps  the  withered  wood, 
Than  through  the  untamed  Indian  mind 


210  FRONTENAC. 

Rush  passion  and  desire  for  blood. 
We-an-dah's  words  had  soon  quick  seeds, 
Which  Thurenserah's  utmost  skill 
Had  but  sufficed  to  check,  not  kill, 
And  now  they  bore  their  fruit  in  deeds. 
Dark  A-ga-yen-teh's  wily  art 
Had  also  gained  him  many  a  heart, 
And  when  they  saw  him  in  his  gore, 
And  heard  the  Brave,  his  brother,  call 
For  vengeance,  then,  forgetting  all, 
Those  wild  hearts  boiled  in  frenzy  o'er. 


XXXII. 

Brave  Sken-an-do-ah  at  a  stride 

Stood  by  the  Atotarho's  side. 

"  Ho-nont-kohs !  Brothers!"  shouted  he, 

"  Peal  out  your  whoops  !"  and  loud  and  free, 

The  brothers  swelled  the  piercing  sound, 

Crowding  the  Atotarho  round. 

Ye-an-te-kah-noh  sent  his  cry, 

Shrill  echoed  Yu-we-lon-doh's  by, 

And  Ka-i-na-tra  pealed  his  high, 

All  save  Ska-nux-heh — (though  by  none 

Beloved,  he  too,  through  courage  rare 
So  prized  by  Indian  minds,  had  won 

At  length  a  slow  admission  there, 
And  yet  scarce  trusted) — 

Struggling  through 

Toward  Thurenserah  and  his  band, 


THE    QUARREL.  211 

Braves  sent  back  whoops  at  every  hand. 
Wilder  the  wild  contention  grew, 
Forth  in  each  grasp  keen  weapons  flew, 
Forms  struggled,  hatchets  whizzed  in  air, 
In  lifted  clutches  knives  were  bare, 
Fusees  were  aimed,  shots  rang  around, 
Heads  dropped,  blood  gushed  upon  the  ground, 
And  death-screams,  blent  with  war-whoops,  rose 
Frequent  from  these  unnatural  foes  ; 
Ye-an-te-kah-noh  fell — beside 
Brave  Ka-i-na-tra  also  died  ; 
In  vain  the  Atotarho  sprung, 
From  point  to  point  his  arms  outflung, 

As  if  to  court  the  blow. 
"  Slay  me,  but  oh,  these  murders  cease  !" — 
The  strife  seemed  only  to  increase, 

Brave  upon  Brave  sank  low  ; 
Whilst  Sken-an-do-ah  clung  beside, 

Seeking  each  threatened  blow  to  ward, 
As  if  all  danger  he  defied, 

His  Atotarho's  life  to  guard. 


XXXIII. 

Ska-nux-heh,  in  his  hand  his  knife, 
Was  quiet  midst  the  desperate  strife, 
But  following,  following,  following  still 

Where'er  the  Atotarho  went, 
Struggling  to  come  more  near — until. 

Above  his  back  the  knife  was  bent ; 
It  fell  but  in  the  opposing  breast 


212  FRONTENAC. 

Of  Sken-an-do-ah  who  had  pressed 

Between,  as  down  'twas  sent  : 
Dead  fell  the  good  old  chief ;   and  on 
The  unconscious  Atotarho  won 

Still  midst  the  crowd  his  way, 
Whilst  glanced  Ska-nux-heh  swiftly  round, 
And  then  once  more  with  stealthy  bound 
Plunged  after  through  the  fray. 


THE  PRIESTESS. 

XXXIV. 

But  as  the  storm  of  whoop  and  blow 
Raged  wildest — shrieked  a  voice  in  air, 
In  wild  and  thrilling  tones,  "  Forbear  !' ' 

And  reared  on  the  Tcar-jis-ta-yo 

Where  a  small  platform  crossed  its  height, 

A  woman's  form  met  every  sight 

With  rolling  eye  and  outstretched  head, 

And  hair — a  black  veil — o'er  her  spread. 

"  The  Priestess  !"  burst  with  loud  exclaim 

Around  and  at  the  dreaded  name 

Ceased  whoop,  and  blow ;  and  every  frame, 
Quickly  so  motionless  had  grown, 

Some  with  a  limb  advanced — with  arm 

Uplifted  some — it  seemed  a  charm 
Had  changed  them  into  stone. 

In  attitude  of  stern  command, 

Toward  the  fixed  throng  she  stretched  her  hand, 


THE    PRIESTESS.  213 

And  cried  again  more  shrill,  "  Forbear  ! 

Like  the  blind  rattle-snake  will  ye, 
With  your  sharp  fangs  your  own  flesh  tear, 

When  near  ye  frowns  the  enemy !" 
As  though  borne  downward  by  a  spell, 
Each  form  bent  low,  each  weapon  fell ; 
On  went  the  voice,  "  I  see  a  cloud 

O'er  the  Ho-de-no-sonne  head ! 
Is  every  warrior's  spirit  cowed  ? 

Is  every  \varrior's  courage  dead  ?"  «  . 

Up  Thurenserah's  hatchet  rose, 

Up  Yu-we-lon-doh's  at  his  side, 
The  Braves  of  the  Ho-nont-koh  close 

Around  with  looks  of  flashing  pride, 
Rearing  their  tomahawks,  and  then 
Burst  from  these  stern  devoted  men 
The  thrilling  war-whoop,  rolling  keen 
Far  o'er  the  distant  forest  scene, 
Causing  the  eagle  hovering  near, 
With  a  quick  flap  to  disappear. 


xxxv. 

The  priestess  raised  her  smiling  face, 
But  the  loud  whoop  no  echo  finds 
Amongst  the  rest ;  deep,  deep  the  trace 
Both  by  We-an-dah  (who  from  sight 
Had  vanished  in  the  late  wild  fight,) 

And  A-ga-yen-teh  left  in  minds 
Untaught,  impulsive  ;  then  the  breath 
Of  the  great  guns  that  winged  such  death 
10* 


214  FKONTENAC. 

With  terror  ever  had  been  fraught, 
Within  their  simple  savage  thought; 
The  combat  also  had  renewed 

Suspicion  of  the  Ho-nont-koh  sway 
Which  A-ga-yen-teh  had  imbued, 

Thinking  this  too  might  open  way 
At  Thurenserah  ;  and  the  pain 
Of  their  fresh  wounds,  friends,  kindred  slain, 
Old  rankling  wrongs,  and  private  feud, 
•    Jealousy,  envy,  all  the  brood 

Of  passions  wakened  in  their  might, 
Spread  their  fierce  withering  influence  now, 
And  each  bent  eye  and  sullen  brow 

Told  of  submission,  or  of  flight. 

xxxvi. 

"  And  can  it  be,"  the  Priestess  said, 

That  the  League's  Braves  would  to  the  tread 

Of  Yon-non-de-yoh  leave  the  Flame  !" 
A  breathless  silence  reigned  around, 
Each  clouded  look  was  on  the  ground 

And  motionless  each  frame. 

XXXVII. 

Once -more  extended  she  her  hand 
And  said  in  tones  first  winning  bland, 
Then  rising  loudly  on  the  air 
Till  like  a  trumpet  rang  they  there, 
"  From  yon  tall  pine  the  feeblest  eye 
Can  view  the  waters  of  the  Lake 


THE    PRIESTESS.  215 

Where  the  three  Wise  Ones  formed  the  Tie 
Which,  fond,  they  trusted  nought  would  break ; 

Whose  records  ye  at  Feasts  have  heard 
Ho-no-vve-na-to  oft  repeat ! 

(De-kan-e-so-ra  !  tongue  of  bird  ! 
How  often  has  thy  music  sweet 

In  praise  too  of  that  League  been  given. 

Ah  why,  when  darkness  now  is  driven 

O'er  the  Ho-de-no-sonne  day 

Are  both  of  ye  so  far  away  !) 

Warriors,  ye  will  not  break  that  Tie 

And  from  stern  Yon-non-de-yoh  flyt 

As  if  he  was  the  O-yal-kher  black 

Coming  on  his  devouring  track  ! 

No  !  when  he  comes,  ye  '11  be,  oh  Braves ! 

Like  that  bold  creature  from  the  waves, 

That  rose  and  made  the  enemy 

Fierce  as  he  was,  back,  bleeding,  flee. 


XXXVIII. 

Still  from  them  not  a  voice  was  heard, 
Still  no  one  from  his  posture  stirred  ; 
Although  the  Ho-nont-kohs  with  quick  breath 
Clutched  weapons,  and  fixed  eyes  of  flame, 
Shoulder  to  shoulder  every  frame 
Stood  the  Tcar-jis-ta-yo  beneath, 
Looking  mute  scorn  at  those  so  base 
Who  still  like  cowards,  held  their  place. 


216  FRONTENAC. 

XXXIX. 

But  once  more  was  the  silence  broke, 
As  once  more  thus  the  Priestess  spoke, 
"  Braves  !  hear  again  the  words  of  dread 
By  bright  To-gan-a-we-tah  said 
A  hundred  hundred  moons  ago, 

'  When  the  White  Throats  shall  come,  if  ye 
Shall  separate,  then  yourselves  will  throw 

The  Long  House  clown,  destroy  the  Tree 
Of  Peace,  and  trample  out  the  Flame  !' 
Must  now  this  doom  our  people  claim  ? — 
Must  ye  with  fierce  and  wicked  will 
This  awful  prophecy  fulfill  ?" 


XL. 

Then  the  Grand  Sachem  rose,  a  sire 
Of  wisdom ! — "  O-kah*  will  not  linger 

O 

Until  the  blasting  Thunder-fire 

Of  Yon-non-de-yoh  comes  ;  the  finger 

Of  Hah-wen-ne-yo  points  the  way 

Into  the  deepest  woods ;  delay 

Brothers,  no  longer  !  I  have  said!" 

And  down  once  more  he  bent  his  head. 

Next  rose  Ot-koh-yahf — "  Scarce  has  moved 
Yori  thin  white  cloud  an  arrow's  flight 

Since  I,  the  only  friend  I  loved, 

Saw  perish ;  hooh !     I  will  not  fight !" 

*  "  Snow:>  in  On-on-dah  gah. 
t  "  Wampum"  in  the  language  of  the  Cayugas. 


THE    PRIESTESS.  217 

Kul-ho-an*  then  :  "  I  ever  thought 

That  the  Ho-nont-kohs  evil  wrought ; 

A  warrior's  heart  is  open!  I 

Wait  not ;  my  counsel  is  to  fly  !" 

Then  Eenof  :  "  From  his  hunting-grounds 

The  voice  of  A-ga-yen-teh  falls 
Within  me  !  '  Brother  !'  low  it  sounds, 

'  Fight  not  where  Thurenserah  calls  !'  " 
On-yar-hehf  last  :  "  A  Mohawk  Brave 

You  know  am  I,  and  yet" — his  teeth 

He  ground  till  foam  flew  forth — "  beneath 
The  knife  of  yon  Ho-nont-koh  slave 
Who  from  me  stole  fair  Min-na-soh 
(But  I  've  repaid  her  with  my  blow) 
In  the  late  strife  I  bleeding  fell. 
Hooh  !  whoop!  I  will  not  fight!" — his  yell 
High  bursting  forth  in  fiendish  swell. 


XLI. 

"Then" — and  the  loud  indignant  tongue 

Thrilling  again — "let  warriors  fly; 
"  I,  a  weak  woman" — and  she  flung 

Her  arm  toward  heaven  and  raised  her  eye- 
"  Come  Yon-non-de-yoh's  scorned  array, 
Beside  the  Sacred  Flame  will  stay!" 
Again  she  tossed  her  arm  in  air, 
And  the  slight  platform  then  was  bare. 

»  "  Kul-ho-an"  means  ;'  Forest"  in  Oneida. 

t  "  Eeno"  means  "  Lightning''  in  the  tongue  of  the  Senecaa. 

I  "  On-yar-heh"  is  a  "  Snake"  in  Mohawk. 


218  FRONTENAC. 


XLI1. 

Away  the  recreant  warriors  filed 

To  plunge  within  the  neighboring  wild ; 

Some  bending  underneath  their  dead  ; 

Some  with  turned  look  and  lingering  tread, 

As  if,  had  not  forbidden  pride, 

Back  to  their  Atotarho's  side 

Would  now  have  come  their  willing  stride. 

XLIII. 

Sorrowing  midst  his  Ho-nont-koh  band 
Bent  Thurenserah,  brow  on  hand, 
Whilst  stood  the  dark  Ska-mix-heh  near, 
Foremost  of  all  with  scornful  sneer 
And  jibe  at  their  mean  dastard  tread, 
Who  from  their  Atotarho  fled. 

XLIV. 

But  now  from  the  Tcar-jis-ta-yo 

The  Priestess  stepping  slow,  came  nigh  ; 

Gone  was  proud  front  and  fiery  eye, 
Nought,  nought  was  there  but  deepest  woe  ; 
She  paused  at  Thurenserah's  side, 

And  placed  her  hand  upon  his  head, 
And  in  soft  tones  of  tender  pride, 

"  Come  to  thy  lodge,  my  son  !"  she  said. 

XLV. 

They  entered,  and  her  arms  she  pressed 
Around  him  :  "  Child,  my  dearest  child  ! 


THE    PRIESTESS.  219 

Thy  mother  loves  thee  now,  far  more 

Than  when  thy  infant  form  she  bore 
Weeping  and  helpless  in  her  breast; 

How  bravely" — and  she  fondly  smiled 
Upon  him — "  hast  thou  done  to-day, 

My  own  true  noble  child  !  but  still 
Thou  must  with  thy  bold  band  away, 

Though  I — 'tis  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  will, 
I — Priestess  of  the  Flame  must  stay." 
"  But  Yon-non-de-yoh,  mother!"  low 
Instant  the  Priestess  bent  her  brow  : 
"  He  will  not  harm  me  !     Safely  round 
Will  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  arm  be  found, 
Though  e'en  should  death  soon  claim  its  prey, 

'T would  come  like  that  swift  Bird  of  snow, 
By  the  Great  Spirit  sent  to  say 
To  Hah-yoh-wont-hah,  *  Come  away !' 

And  glad,  oh  glad,  as  he  I'll  go — 
And  waiting  thy  loved  presence  there 
The  unfailing  strawberry  will  prepare — 
But  thou  must  Yon-non-de-yoh  flee. 
He  is  thy  deadliest  enemy  ! 
Yes,  thou  must  flee  him — thou,  who  late" — 

She  shuddered  deep — "  didst  raise  the  knife 
Against  him,  thou  hast  roused  his  hate  ! 

Yes,  thou  must  go,  but  at  his  life 
Thou  ne'er  again,  my  child,  must  aim, 

For" — once  more  dropped  her  eye  beneath — 

"  Late  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  whispered  breath 
I  heard  whilst  kneeling  at  the  Flame. 
It  said,  '  Ho-de-no-sonne  hand 


220  FRONTENAC. 

Ne'er  Yon-non-de-yoh's  blood  shall  shed  ; 
My  arm  shall  deal  with  him  !' — a  brand 

Broke  in  the  depths — the  whisper  fled. 
Go  !  but  I  do  not  say  thy  wrath 
Shall  hover  not  around  his  path, 
From  ambush  deep  the  ball  to  wing, . 
Upon  his  straggling  young  men  spring, 
And  on  them  in  their  wearied  sleep 
With  thy  still  wild-cat  tread  to  creep ; 
I  might  as  well  bid  life  depart 
From  thy  Ho-de-no-sonne  heart. 
At  night  let  thy  unslumbering  eye 
Be  like  the  owl's ;  thy  feet  by  day 
Be  like  the  tireless  moose's  way ; 
And  Hah-wen-ne-yo,  from  his  sky, 
Oh  !  may  he  be  for  ever  nigh  ! 
And  when  again  thy  feet  shall  come 
To  thy  loved  On-on-dah-gah  home, 
Once  more,  she  trusts,  thy  mother's  voice 
Will  glad  thine  ear — the  Sacred  Flame 
Burn  bright  as  ever  in  its  frame, 
To  bid  the  League  again  rejoice!" 
She  ceased — both  left  the  lodge — and  bore 
Their  footsteps  to  the  band  once  more. 


XLVI. 

The  other  victims  of  the  fight, 
By  the  deserters  left,  were  laid 

Within  the  burial-place — the  rite 
Hasty,  and  short,  and  simple  paid, 


THE    PRIESTESS.  221 

And  then  was  every  narrow  motmd 

By  the  rude  sorrowing  emblems  crowned. 

Then  Yu-we-lon-doh  at  the  head, 

And  the  sad  Atotarho's  tread 

Heavy  and  oft-checked  in  the  rear, 

Filed  the  Ho-nont-kohs  from  the  scene, 

Each  stepping  in  the  other's  track, 
And  Thurenserah  paused  when  near 

The  forest,  gazed  long  lingering  back 

On  the  lone  mother — then  between 
The  thronging  trunks  his  figure  light 
Was  hidden  from  her  loving  sight. 

XLVII. 

The  Priestess  glanced  her  thoughtful  eye 
Above,  around  ;  within  the  sky 
The  sacred  smoke  wTas  curling  high ; 
One  pearly  cloud  was  melting  there 

Like  Hah-yoh-wont-hah's  white  canoe, 
"When  up,  up  through  the  summer  air, 

He  vanished  from  his  people's  view 
Amidst  the  sky's  triumphal  strain, 
Its  welcome  to  his  home  again. 
The  sun  threw  soft  and  reddened  flood 
O'er  huts,  stockade,  maize,  stream  and  wood, 
As  if  the  expanded  flame  was  shed 

By  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  kind  command, 
Protection  o'er  the  scene  to  spread, 
..  From  the  approaching  spoiler's  hand  ; 
The  river's  voice  was  in  her  ear, 


222  FRONTENAC. 

Seeming  To-gan-a-we-tah's  own, 
Thus  to  her  heart :  "  Thou  art  not  lone, 
True  Priestess!  I  am  with  thee  here  !" 
She  stood  a  moment,  turned,  then  slow 
Re-entered  the  Tcar-jis-ta-yo. 


THE  SACRED  FLAME. 

XLVIII. 

A  hollow  shaft  of  stone  stood  there 

Upon  a  hearth  in  spaces  hewed, 
Hollowed  beneath,  through  which  the  air 

Unceasing  gushed,  a  furnace  rude. 
From  the  barred  hearth,  the  sacred  blaze 
Streamed  up  in  broad  and  splendid  rays  ; 
Before  it  reached  the  shaft,  it  showed 
A  spot  that  like  an  eye-ball  glowed, 
So  keen,  away  recoiled  the  sight 
Before  the  fierce  and  searing  light. 
A  low  deep  rumble  from  it  came, 
The  voice  mysterious  of  the  Flame  ; 
As  though  To-gan-a-we-tah  wise, 
Ere  went  he  to  his  native  skies, 
Had  left,  with  deep  and  tender  care, 
His  warning  voice  for  ever  there. 
Each  Union  Feast  it  seemed  to  speak 

To  the  crouched  ring  of  warriors  near  : 
"  Never  the  League,  my  children,  break, 

If  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  frowns  ye  fear  : 


THE    SACRED    FLAME.  223 


And  never  let  my  gleaming  eye, 
Kindled  by  the  red  lightning  first, 
When  on  the  mountain-pine  it  burst, 

And  dashed  it  into  atoms,  die !" 


XLIX. 

Deep  to  the  floor  her  brow  she  bent, 
A  glance  imploring  upward  sent, 
And  then  took  down  her  tufted  mat 
Passed  out,  and  by  the  portal  sat. 
Down  shed  the  sunshine  greater  strength, 
The  shades  commenced  to  shrink  in  length, 
Shut  were  her  eyes,  scarce  flowed  her  breath, 
She  seemed  as  though  reclined  in  death, 
Not  e'en  the  slightest  muscle  stirred ; 
Around  her  tripped  and  searched  the  bird, 
Leaped  to  her  knee  and  then  her  head, 
And  then  unscared  its  pinion  spread ; 
Still  lightly  rose  the  sacred  smoke, 
And  in  the  soft  wind  gently  broke, 
And  o'er  her  wreathed,  as  if  to  bear 
Away  her  spirit  through  the  air. 
Noon  passed — the  building's  shadow  deep 
Began  around  her  form  to  creep ; 
A  fresher  wind  allayed  the  heat, 
The  sun  sent  beam  more  mild  and  sweet ; 
Farther  the  shadow  stole — its  trace 
Was  now  all  o'er  the  area's  space ; 
Beside  her  lit  the  butterfly, 
The  sounding  bee  went  swerve] ess  by, 


224  FRONTENAC. 

And  e'en  the  humming-bird,  most  shy 
Of  all  winded  things,  whizzed  fearless  nigh, 
Until  at  last  her  raven  hair 
Turned  golden  in  the  sunset  glare. 


END    OF    CANTO    SEVENTH. 


CANTO   EIGHTH. 


THE  MARCH. 
THE  MEETING. 
THE  MARCH. 


THE  MOCCASIN- 
PRINT. 
THE  NIGHT-WATCH. 


CANTO  EIGHTH. 


THE  MARCH. 


ON  Frontenac's  camp  the  gray  morning  arose, 

And  the  drum-rattle  broke  on  its  heavy  repose, 

The  Indian  was  wrenching  red  scalps  in  his  dream  ; 

The  hardy  batteauman  was  battling  the  stream  ; 

Fame  pealed  in  the  ear  of  the  noble  her  strain  ; 

And  the  pikeman  was  swelling  his  chorus  again. 

Up  sprang  the  fierce  Indian  and  felt  for  his  knife  ; 

Up  sprang  the  batteauman  all  armed  for  the  strife  ; 

The  noble  donned  sabre  and  corslet  once  more  ; 

And  the  pikeman  again  his  long  weapon  upbore  ; 

The  tents  disappeared,  and  the  warlike  array, 

In  their  splendor  and  rudeness,  passed  slow  on  their  way. 


Strange  was  the  sight  !  rough  trunks  between, 
Beneath  fresh  boughs,  deep  thickets  through, 

Musket  and  cuirass  cast  their  sheen, 
Mantle  and  flag  displayed  their  hue. 

Now  on  some  low  hemlock's  cone, 

Arquebuse  an  instant  shone  ; 


228  FRONTENAC. 

Now  against  a  streak  of  light 

Glanced  the  uniform  of  white  ; 

And  some  tawny  buff-coat  now 

Gleamed  upon  the  streamlet's  brow. 

On  the  forest-earth  were  feet 

Bloodiest  battle-fields  had  beat, 

And  had  bounded  in  the  dance, 

Midst  the  gay  saloons  of  France ; 
Instead  of  the  trumpet  and  shout  of  blood, 
Was  the  soothing  peace  of  the  quiet  wood  ; 
Instead  of  rich  arras  and  wax'd  floor's  gloss, 
Were  the  fleece-like  leaves  and  the  silk-like  moss  ; 
And  instead  of  soft  voices  and  footsteps  gay, 
Were  the  song  of  the  bird,  and  the  dance  of  the  spray. 


in. 

Upon  their  creaking  wheels  the  cannon  rolled, 

Jolting  o'er  roots,  or  sinking  in  the  mould ; 

In  a  carved  chair  behind,  amidst  a  throng 

Of  nobles,  Frontenac  was  borne  along  ; 

Whilst  in  the  van  We-an-dah  slowly  went, 

His  deep-flushed  brow  upon  his  bosom  bent. 

Passed  was  the  pine  reared  proudly  in  the  air, 

Whose  top  the  eagle  claimed — whose  trunk  the  bear  ; 

Passed  was  the  mining  streamlet  flowing  deep 

Beneath  its  alder  roof  with  sullen  creep  ; 

Passed  were  wet  hollows,  dry  and  mossy  knolls, 

And  grassy  openings  set  with  pillared  bolls ; 

Passed  great  prone  trunks  with  emerald  coats  o'erspread, 

And  swamps  where  trees  stood  lichened,  gaunt  and  dead  ; 


THE    MARCH.  229 

Passed  sunlit  vistas  reaching  far  away, 

And  glades  spread  broadly  to  the  golden  day ; 

"Onward!"  shouts  Frontenac,  as  here  and  there 

His  numbers  hesitate  the  depths  to  dare ; 

Thus  was  each  mile  of  struggling  labor  won; 

Up  to  its  noon  arose  the  fervid  sun, 

Then  it  commenced  the  curve  of  its  descent, 

And  grew  more  golden  as  it  downward  went ; 

Still  on  they  struggled,  ranks  and  files  were  lost, 

And  as  chance  willed  it,  strode  the  motely  host ; 

The  pikeman  lagged  amidst  the  speckled  gloom, 

And  sang  the  vineyard  melodies  of  home, 

Whilst  the  grave  Indian  passed  with  stag-like  stride, 

Nor  deigned  a  glance  in  his  majestic  pride. 

IV, 

Varied  the  talk  the  reckless  bands  exchanged 
As  through  the  woods  in  broken  ranks  they  ranged. 
"  See  in  yon  covert  where  those  mnples  meet, 
That  startled  deer!  how  fiercely  doth  he  beat 
With  his  black  hoofs  the  earth — hark,  hark,  how  shrill 
His  whistle  1  now  he  darts  behind  the  hill. 
Yon  partridge  by  that  bush,  a  mottled  speck, 
He  's  upon  tiptoe  !   view  him  stretch  his  neck ! 
List  to  his  startling  clap !  he  shoots  away. 
Hear  that  black  squirrel  hissing  on  the  spray ! 
View  master  hawk  !  what  long  sharp  yellow  claws ! 
He  whets  his  beak!  he  's  off!  Those  deafening  caws 
Tell  of  tlje  crow  !  yes,  there  they  swift  retreat, 
Warned  by  their  sentry  of  our  coining  feet ! 
That  snort  and  blow !  off  Bruin  waddles  there — 
11 


230  FRONTENAC. 

You  're  a  strong  wrestler,  Merle !  a  chance  so  rare 

You'll  have  but  seldom  !     Head  him  \  show  your  hug  ! 

He  seeks  yon  windfall  through  the  hollow  dug 

By  the  tornado.     Haste  !  or  midst  jammed  bough 

And  root  he  '11  hide!  e'n  so  !  he  's  vanished  now  !" — 

"  Why  dost  thou  start  thus  backward,  Meux  ?  with  fear  ! 

The  rattle-snake  !  beware  !  the  monster's  here  ! 

Here  in  this  nook  !  hark  now  the  note  he  springs, 

His  warning,  like  the  song  the  locust  sings! 

Ha!  the  coiled  monster!  see  his  tongue  of  flame  ! 

His  flattened  head  !  his  striped  and  swelling  frame ! 

Back  flies  his  jaw!  that  missile  mark  him  strike, 

Falling  beside  him  !  thrust  him  with  thy  pike  ! 

"Well  done,  Meux!  how  he  darts  !  give  thrust  once  more  ! 

He  sinks !  he  writhes !  his  mischief  now  is  o'er ! 

Though  hours  he'll  linger.     Hark  !  that  distant  song! 

It  is  the  thrasher's  thrilling  thus  along. 

How  sweet  the  warble  !  now  so  high  its  shake, 

It  seems  its  fine-drawn  delicate  thread  wilr^reak ; 

Now  in  full  ring  comes  on  its  liquid  swell, 

Like  the  rich  music  of  some  silver  bell ; 

And  now  the  strain  drops  low,  yet  full  and  round, 

The  listening  soul  dissolving  with  its  sound ! 

Is  it  not  sweet,  Allaire?" 

"  Ah  yes,  Merle,  yes ! 

How  oft  when  eve  commenced  on  day  to  press, 
I  from  the  gallery  at  Quebec  have  heard 
The  soft  pure  flute  of  this  enchanting  bird, 
And  thought  of  home  upon  the  smiling  plain 
Beside  the  Loire,  and  I  was  young  again ; 
My  boy  came  bounding  toward  my  homeward  feet, 


THE    MEETING.  231 

My  wife  was  there  her  weary  one  to  greet, 

Wiii  1st  the  low  vesper  bell  was  on  the  air, 

And  all  things  round  me  seemed  to  whisper  prayer. 

Oh  then  I  lived  in  long  departed  years, 

My  eyes  were  filled  with  sad  delicious  tears, 

And  not  until  that  woodland  strain  was  o'er 

Did  the  dream  pass  and  leave  me  old  once  more  ! 


THE  MEETING. 

v. 

The  afternoon  breathed  cool  amidst  the  shades, 
And  sunset  now  was  streaming  through  the  glades. 
The  western  leaves  flashed  out  in  golden  gloss, 
And  sifted  sprinklings  on  the  grass  and  moss ; 
Now  the  grim  cannon  in  quick  sparklings  shone, 
Passing  some  thicket  densely  overgrown  ; 
Now,  where  some  hollow  poured  its  slanting  rays, 
Gun,  flag,  and  corslet,  all  were  in  a  blaze. 
On,  on  they  pressed,  but  patches  now  of  light 
Gratefully  cheered  their  gloom-accustomed  sight ; 
Broad  glitterings  through  the  trees,  and  murmurs  low 
Blent  with  the  wood's  hum,  told  a  river's  flow ; 
And  now,  before,  a  slender  thread  of  smoke 
On  the  sky's  rich  and  golden  back-ground  broke. 
The  stealthy  snakelike  scouts  crept  shrouded  on, 
And  mutely  signified  the  goal  was  won. 


232  FRONTENAC. 

A  brightness  passed  across  each  weary  brow, 

Ranks  were  reformed,  and  all  was  order  now. 

Swift  they  approached  the  opening  glimmering  wide, 

Knn-da-qua's  ripples  glancing  by  their  side. 

They  left  the  woods,  the  maize-fields  spread  their  green, 

An  On-on-dah-gah  castle  there  was  seen. 

Whoops  burst  out  wildly  from  the  Indian  throng, 

Like  famished  wolves  they  howled  and  leaped  along, 

All  save  We-an-dah, — with  averted  gaze 

He  crept  and  hid  amidst  the  phalanxed  maize. 

On  through  the  oped  gate  of  the  palisade, 

On  through  the  lonely  lanes  their  way  they  made, 

Until  at  last  they  burst  upon  the  square ; 

The  long  high-roofed  Tcar-jis-ta-yo  was  there  ; 

That  shrine  so  famed  amongst  the  Redmen !  shrine 

Which  held  the  flame  so  hallowed,  so  divine  ! 

Known  through  all  tribes  by  legends  strange  and  dark, 

Of  mystery,  wonder,  dread,  yet  hate,  the  mark! 

On  toward  the  porch  they  sprang,  but  who  sits  there 

With  such  composed  and  yet  majestic  air ! 

Ta-wen-deh,  leader  of  the  savage  bands, 

Stops,  looks,  advances,  stops,  extends  his  hands. 

"  Back,  slave  !  touch  not  the  Priestess  !  back!" — with  awe 

That  rising  form  the  startled  Indians  saw, 

And  not  a  weapon  stirred  or  war-whoop  rung ; 

It  seemed  as  if  a  spell  was  o'er  them  flung, 

The  mastery  of  the  mind ;  once  more  she  spoke  : 

"Lead  me  to  Yon-non-de-yoh !" — just  then  broke 

The  throng  for  Frontenac  ;  she  met  his  eye  ; 

He  bounded  from  his  chair  with  one  wild  cry 

"Ha!" — then  he  checked  himself  with  effort  strong; 


THE    MEETING.  233 

v 

"  Ta-wen-deh  !  take  from  hence  thy  warrior  throng  ! 
Guards,  draw  around  !" — then  to  the  Priestess  turning, 
"  Enter  !" 

"  Not  where  the  sacred  flame  is  burning  !" 
Grasping  her  arm,  yet  gently,  then  he  led 
Swift  within  Thurenserah's  lodue  her  tread. 


VI. 

"  Sa-ha-wee !  Can  it,  can  it  be 

My  loved,  my  long  lost !" — and  he  threw 
His  arm  around  her  passionately  ; 

But  up  her  slender  form  she  drew, 
And  with  a  sternly  frowning  brow 

Broke  from  his  arm,  and  waved  him  back  : 
"  Sa-ha-wee  is  the  Priestess  now  ; 

O-nah-tah*  is  fierce  Fronteuac, 
Red  Yon-non-de-yoh  !" — but  he  still 
Exclaimed  in  tones  of  tenderest  thrill, 
"  Oh  do  not,  do  not  turn  from  me  ! 

Long  years  have  passed,  how  drear  and  long, 

My  bird!  since  last  I  heard  thy  song!" 
And  once  more  to  his  bosom  he 
Her  form  caught  wildly  ;  in  his  face 

Sa-ha-wee  looked  with  softening  eye, 
A  moment  stood  in  his  embrace, 

Then  breathed  a  quick  and  yielding  sigh, 
Whilst  wakened  feeling  on  her  cheek 
Commenced  in  rising  hue  to  speak ; 

"  The  Pine-tree"  in  On  on-da-gah. 


234  FRONTENAC. 

And  then  a  second  rush  of  thought 
A  deeper  kindlier  color  brought, 
Although  a  lingering  sternness  yet 
Within  her  eye  the  softness  met. 
"  But  how,  Sa-ha-wee  !  dearest,  how, 

How  has  thou  risen  thus  from  the  dead  ?" 
The  Priestess  swept  from  off  her  brow 

The  long  black  hair  across  it  spread, 
And  there  displayed  a  deep-marked  scar  : 

"  Ta-yo-nee's  hatchet  did  not  slay  ! 
But  when  Sa-ha-wee  woke,  afar 

In  her  own  lodge  once  more  she  lay 
At  On-on-dah-gah  ;  the  stern  mood 

Of  the  stern  brother  soft  was  made 
"When  by  his  arm  he  saw,  in  blood, 

His  once  loved,  only  sister,  laid. 
Long  were  the  hours  'twixt  life  and  death 

I  hung  ;  O-nah-tah  seemed  to  stand" 
(And  a  soft  loving  eye  she  now 
Turned  on  his  earnest  listening  brow) 

"My  head  oft  holding  with  his  hand, 
And  words  of  love  upon  his  breath  ; 

But  always,  always  was  my  child 

Around — my  neck  her  little  arm 

Now  circling,  now  her  kisses  warm 
Touching  my  lips  as  sweet  she  smiled. 
I  rose  ;  Ta-yo-nee  by  my  side 

Had  kept  a  never  ceasing  watch 

Lest  other  ears  the  tale  should  catch 
My  ravings  told  ;  he  wished  to  hide, 


THE    MEETING.  235 

He  said,  my  burning  shame  that  I, 

The  daughter  of  Ska-je-ah-no,* 

His  sister  should  have  fallen  so  low 
In  Yon-non-de-yoh's  breast  to  lie 
Un wadded  !  I  deserved  to  die  ! 
He  told  that  I  had  been  the  wife 
Of  a  French  soldier  lately  o'er 

In  the  new  Yon-non-de-yoh's  train, 
From  where  the  last  one  basely  bore 
Myself  and  sire  ;  my  husband's  life 

He  'd  watched,  and  him  at  last  had  slain 
In  our  own  lodge  ;  by  accident 

One  of  the  blows  his  arm  had  dealt, 
Had  from  my  husband's  head  been  bent, 

And  thus  my  brow  the  weight  had  felt. 
Alt  this  time  too  within  my  ear, 

Against  thee  he  was  whispering,  till 
Against  my  strong  and  struggling  will, 

The  tall  O-nah-tah,  loved  so  late," 
(Here  on  his  hand  a  kiss  she  pressed, 
And  strained  it  fondly  to  her  breast,) 
"  To  Yon-non-de-yoh  changed,  and  fear 

Chased  love  away,  then  blent  with  hate. 
But  still  my  child  so  sweet  so  bright, 
Was  never  absent  from  my  sight ; 
In  thought  by  day  in  dreams  by  night, 
I  saw  her,  and  so  deep  my  pain. 

Ta-yo-nee  left  to  pluck  my  flower 

"  "  The  Eagle"  in  the  On-on-dah-gah  tongue. 


236  FRONTENAC. 

From  hated  Yon-non-de-yoh's  bower  ; 
He  brought  her  and  I  smiled  again  \jr 
"  What !  doth  she  live  ?"  in  quickly  broke 

Here  Frontenac.     Sa-ha-wee's  face 

An  instant's  painful  thought  bore  trace, 
She  bowed  and  hid  it — then  she  spoke : 
"  No,  no,  O-nah-tah  !  she  is  dead  !" 
Frontenac  bent  his  silvered  head  : 
"  'Tis  as  I  deemed  ;  my  scouts  I  sent 
On  every  side  ;  but  first  they  went 
To  On-on-dah-gah,  for  I  thought 
Ta-yo-nee  too  this  deed  had  wrought ; 
They  bore  back  tidings  he  had  died 

In  some  late  war-path" — 

"  True,  most  true, 
The  very  night  that  by  my  side 

My  child  he  placed,  the  war-path  drew 
(With  Ku-an,  Atotarho  then) 

My  brother's  warrior  tread  away 
To  a  far  Adirondack  glen, 

And  both  Braves  perished  in  the  fray  !" 
Frontenac's  eye  a  moment  flamed  : 
"  Heaven  took  the  vengeance  that  I  claimed  ; 
But  let  him  rest  in  peace.     No  word 
Of  my  lost  little  one  I  heard 
Through  thy  Long  House,  my  scouts  in  vain 
Made  search,  no  tidings  did  they  gain, 
Till  hope  at  last  I  ceased  to  feel, 

And  the  blind  fruitless  search  gave  o'er ; 
Since  then  I  've  only  thought  Lucille, 

Like  thee,  Sa-ha-wee,  was  no  more. 


THE     MEETING.  237 


My  scouts  too  told  me  in  their  tale, 
When  at  thy  village  ceased  their  trail, 
It  was  a  day  of  feast  and  glee 

For  the  new  Priestess  of  the  Flame. 
Ah  !  little  did  I  deem  that  she 

And  thou,  my  lost  one,  were  the  same. 


VII. 

He  ceased — and  each  a  moment  stood 
In  silence  by  deep  thoughts  subdued  : 
Then  low  the  Priestess  bent  her  frame, 

And,  taking  in  both  hers  his  hand, 

Exclaimed  in  tones  of  music  bland, 
"  One  boon,  one  boon,  the  Sacred  Flame 
Spare,  spare,  O-nah-tah !" 

"  For  thy  sake, 

Thy  sake,  Sa-ha-wee! — ha!  that  glare, 
Those  whoops  !" — they  saw  a  fierce  light  break 

O'er  the  dim  space  of  twilight  air. 
Through  the  smoke-opening  overhead, 
And  both  rushed  forth  wTith  startled  tread. 
Alas,  poor  Priestess !  one  keen  glow 
Wrapped  thy  loved  shrins  Tcar-jis-ta-yo, 
Whilst  wildly  round  the  red  expanse, 
Writhing  in  fast  and  frantic  dance, 
Ta-wen-deh  and  his  Hurons  went, 
And  high  triumphant  whoopings  sent 
That  with  the  fire's  loud  cracklings  blent ; 
Alas,  poor  Priestess  !  fiercely  sprung 
Frontenac  forward,  fiercely  rung 


238  FRONTENAC. 

His  loud  harsh  tones  :  "  What  daring  hand 
Has  done  this  deed  without  command  ?" 
The  Priestess  gazed — that  flame  so  long 
Watched  o'er  by  her  with  love  so  strong, 
For  whose  loved  sake  she  'd  sought  this  hour 
To  save  it  by  O-nah-tah's  power, 
The  star  to  which  the  nations  turned, 

Sign  of  the  League !  so  deeply  cherished  ! 
Which  for  unnumbered  years  had  burned, 

And  which  she  hoped  would  ne'er  have  perished. 
Eye  of  the  Long  House  !  kindled  there 
By  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  loving  care, 
To  be  extinguished,  spurned  beneath 

The  feet  of  foes  most  scorned,  who  fled 

Before  her  people's  very  tread 
Ere  this — she  reeled — she  gasped  for  breath, 
And,  midst  the  wild  and  stunning  swell 
Of  savage  joy,  she,  swooning  fell  ; 
And  quick  his  kindling  rage  forgot, 
Frontenac  bore  her  from  the  spot, 
And  his  old,  faithful,  staid  Allaire 
Meeting,  consigned  her  to  his  care. 


THE    MARCH.  239 


THE  MARCH. 

VIII. 

Before  the  tent  of  Frontenac 

Pitched  in  the  square,  the  sentry  Merle 
Saw,  striding  in  his  weary  track, 

Slowly  the  wings  of  darkness  furl. 
The  watch-fires  that  around  him  burned 
"Wasting  to  ghastlier  color  turned  ; 
The  tent,  bathed  late  in  ruddy  light, 
Stood  in  its  graceful  folds  of  white; 
A  crimsoned  object  in  advance 
Changed  to  the  snowy  flag  of  France  ; 
The  lodges,  where  the  whole  array 
(Save  the  disdainful  Redskins)  lay 
In  slumber,  through  the  shimmering  air 
Their  usual  shapes  commenced  to  wear  ; 
Its  redly-flickering,  chequering  shade, 
Threw  off  the  neighboring  palisade  ; 
Spectres,  that  back  and  forward  ranged, 
To  brother  sentinels  were  changed  ; 
The  barky  emblems,  shapes  grotesque, 

Upon  the  mounds  of  burial  placed, 
In  the  wild  light  so  picturesque, 

Were  in  the  brightness  fully  traced. 
A  shadow,  wavering  motions  making 
To  the  wind-moulded  watch-fire's  shaking. 
rShrank  to  the  drum  that,  near,  had  found 


240  FRONTENAC. 

Again  its  native  figure  round, 

Displaying  e'en  the  fife  within 

Its  ring  of  beaten  tawny  skin  ; 

A  crimson  flash  that  oft  had  shot 

Into  Merle's  eyes  as  past  the  spot 

He  strode,  to  steely  gleams  turned  now 

Upon  a  breast-plate  cast  below  ; 

The  bugle  lying  by  it,  slung 

Upon  its  strap,  a  glitter  flung  ; 

The  casque,  thrown  near,  keen  rays  flashed  out  ; 

Dark  brands  of  fires  showed,  strewed  about ; 

Whilst  numerous  figures  round  the  square 

Told  that  the  wild  men  of  the  host, 
Scorning  all  roof  but  sky,  were  there 

In  sleep,  weighed  down  by  orgies,  lost. 
Spots  in  the  areu's  midst,  deep  gleaming, 
Eyeballs  of  lurking  monsters  seeming 
Within  Merle's  wandering,  idle  dreaming, 
Mammoth  or  serpent  terrible, 

These  forests'  former  habitants, 
Of  which  he  'd  heard  the  Hurons  tell, 

Devouring  all  within  their  haunts, 
Turned  to  pale  coals  ;  whilst,  midst  them  reared, 
A  tall  and  blackened  shaft  appeared, 
The  sole  memorial  left  to  show 
"Where  stood  the  shrine  Tcar-jis-ta-yo. 
Not  this  alone,  but  his  keen  eye, 

Once  by  a  shoot  of  scarlet  light 
Sent  by  the  watch-fire^  chanced  to  spy 

A  crouching  figure  ;  through  the  night 
He  oft  had  thrown  his  curious  look 


THE    MARCH.  241 

Upon  that  black  and  frowning  nook 
Where  saw  he  first  the  form,  a  gleam 
Would  now  and  then  across  it  stream 
And  still  he  saw  the  figure  there 
Bent  as  if  crushed  down  by  despair. 
No  foe  he  deemed  it,  yet  'twas  strange 
There  without  motion,  without  change, 
By  the  red  glow  which  o'er  would  flit 
He  viewed  that  weird-like  figure  sit. 
The  dawning  light  disclosed  at  last 
The  drooping  Priestess  who,  while  fast 
Allaire,  toil-spent  with  marching,  slept, 
Away  with  stealthy  step  had  crept 
In  her  unslumbering  grief  to  brood 
Amid  the  wrecks  around  her  strew'd ; 
Wrecks  of  what  lately  was  the  frame 
Of  its,  she  thought,  undying  Flame, 
Flame  of  her  glory!  having  place 

Next  Thurenserah  in  her  heart, 
Which,  woe  most  deep !  most  foul  disgrace  ! 

Had  seen  its  last  faint  flash  depart. 
Flame  of  her  glory  !  oh,  how  prized! 
Amidst  the  foes  the  most  despised ! 
Never  again  to  show  its  light 
Unless  in  pity  to  the  night, 
Shrouding  the  Long  House  from  his  eye 
Should  Hah-wen-ne-yo  cause  to  fly 
The  lightning  as  in  days  of  yore, 
And  give  the  sacred  light  once  more, 
That  would  once  more  with  sparkling  power 
Make  summer  of  the  winter  bower, 


242  FRONTENAC. 

Make  daylight  of  the  midnight  hour, 

With  its  rejoicing  blaze 
And  gladness  through  the  Long  House  shower, 

As  in  its  brightest  days, 
Ere  treacherous  counsels  had  prevailed, 
Ere  craven  terror  had  assailed, 
Or  evil  passions  had  burst  out, 
Scattering  their  awful  fruits  about, 
Causing  the  Long  House  now  to  lie 
In  gloom  beneath  a  gloomy  sky. 


IX. 

Still,  still  the  east  horizon  grew 
More  soft  and  clear  and  bright  in  hue  ; 
The  clouds  displayed  a  dappled  mien; 
The  forests  changed  from  dark  to  green ; 
Whilst  in  full  joyous  chorus  there 
Burst  warbles  on  the  dewy  air  ; 
At  last  the  clouds  with  light  were  laced, 
On  gold  arid  pearl  the  woods  were  traced, 
The  Orient  seemed  of  rainbows  Avrought, 

Gold  seemed  across  the  trees  to  run, 
And  then,  like  some  majestic  thought 

Kindling  the  brain,  Merle  saw  the  sun. 


As  on  the  hill-top's  loftiest  pine  it  glowed, 
The  wide  encampment  stir  and  bustle  showed ; 
Frontenac,  restless,  with  a  picked  array 


THE    MOCCASIN-PRINT.  243 

Of  pikes  and  muskets,  quick  his  vengeful  way 
(The  Adirondack  and  the  Huron  band, 
Fiercest  of  all  his  tribes !  to  aid  his  hand) 
Was  now,  amidst  the  endless  woods  to  push, 
The  Oneidas  in  their  fastnesses  to  crush, 
Leaving  his  ordnance,  and  remaining  train 
At  On-on-dah-gah  till  he  come  again. 


XI. 

Seated  within  his  chair  of  state  once  more 
Frontenac  takes  his  pathway  as  before ; 
Sa-ha-wee,  still  the  object  of  his  care, 
Near  him  is  placed,  protected  by  Allaire ; 
The  yet  soft  sunbeams  of  the  morning  strike 
Again  on  moving  rnusket,  flag  and  pike, 
And  once  more  do  the  numbers  onward  press 
Amidst  the  vast  and  solemn  wilderness. 


THE  MOCCASIN-PRINT. 

XII. 

Noon's  burning  eye  was  now  refulgent  o'er, 
Sprinkling  with  light  the  varying  sylvan  floor; 
The  hemlock's  myriad  particles  of  green 
In  tiny  flashes,  glinted  back  the  sheen  ; 
The  long-leaved  polished  laurels  to  the  sight 
Sent  rapid  glances  of  keen  dazzling  light ; 
The  beech's  moss  was  turned  to  golden  fringe, 


244  FRONTENAC. 

And  the  air's  gray  suffused  with  emerald  tinge  ; 
The  straggling  numbers  still  their  path  pursued 
Amidst  the  crowded  columns  of  the  wood, 
The  deep-trod  trail  they  followed,  winding,  here, 
Around  some  swamp  extending  wild  and  drear, 
Bristling  with  tamaracks  and  hemlocks  dead, 
And  with  one  sea  of  laurels  overspread, 
And  seeming,  there,  some  swelling  ridge's  back 
With  yawning  hollows  either  side  the  track. 
Unceasing  on  the  air  arose  the  beat, 
Upon  the  forest  earth,  of  trampling  feet, 
With  rustle,  brittle  snap  of  twig,  and  crush 
Through  the  dry  leaves  and  tangled  underbrush  : 
Shrill  chirping  voices,  sudden  whirring  wings, 
Told  the  quick  flight  of  fleeing  woodland  things. 
Whilst  the  rnusquito,  ever  hovering  near 
With  its  fine  twanging,  teased  the  shrinking  ear. 
We-an-dah,  near  the  head  of  the  array, 
With  cowering  footstep  stalked  upon  his  way  ; 
His  shrinking  figure,  and  his  drooping  crest, 
Showing  he  wished  no  eye  on  him  to  rest  ; 
Sorrow  and  conscious  guilt  upon  his  face, 
In  furrows  sunken  deep,  had  left  their  trace  : 
But  sudden  flashed  his  dim  blank  countenance, 
Round  him  he  cast  a  quick  and  furtive  glance  ; 
A  pikeman,  treading  near,  was  making  bare 
His  forehead  from  his  iron  pot,  for  air  ; 
Another,  with  low-bended  back  had  stopped 
To  lift  the  long  buff  gauntlet  he  had  dropped  ; 
Another,  making  of  his  sword  a  staff, 
Was  joining  in  a  fourth  one's  careless  laugh ; 


THE    MOCCASIN-PRINT.  245 

Slow,  sauntering  onward  went  a  musketeer, 

His  huge  piece  slung  within  his  bandoleer  ; 

Whilst  a  young  noble,  pausing  at  a  tree, 

His  gorget  was  adjusting  busily ; 

The  rest  were  hidden  in  the  tail  that  wound 

Its  crooked  way  midst  thickets  grouped  around  : 

He  looked  again  on  what  his  eye  first  met, 

And  then  his  moccasin  upon  it  set, 

Turned  round  a  laurel-clump,  and,  bending  low, 

Surveyed  the  slope  with  glances  keen  and  slow  ; 

Again — but  'twas  a  faint,  a  scarce-marked  trace, 

And  nearly  hid  beneath  a  dock-leaf's  face, 

A  moccasin's  light  print, — so  faint,  so  light, 

Nought  but  an  Indian  could  have  caught  the  sight, 

Eagerly  glanced  he  further  down, — a  brook 

Its  rushy  way  along  the  bottom  took, 

A  wide  leap's  distance  from  the  print,  but  not 

Another  foot-trace  marked  the  tangled  spot ; 

He  lifted  every  spreading  plant,  he  drew 

Aside  each  thicket,  cluster,  bush  in  view, 

He  lightly  scooped  the  dead  fall'ii  leaves  away, 

Bnt  nothing  more  did  his  close  search  repay  ; 

If  other  trace  remained,  with  such  deep  care 

And  cunning  was  it  hid,  that  in  despair 

We-an-dah,  noted  for  his  eye-sight  keen, 

Refrained  his  search  and  turned  him  from  the  scene. 

Climbing  once  more  the  ridge,  the  eye  he  caught 

Of  Merle  by  passing.     "  Ha!  what  hast  thou  sought 

In  those  thick  laurels,  Redskin  ?     I'll  be  bound 

Fire-water  cannot  in  those  depths  be  found — 

Here,  in  those  never  ending  woods  ! — but  look  1" 


246  FRONTENAC. 

And  lifting  up  his  buff  coat-flaps,  he  took 
From  his  trunk-hose  a  flask  of  blushing  hue, 
And  held  it  smiling  to  the  Indian's  view; 
<c  What,  Redskin!  dost  thou  turn  away?  wilt  not 
The  flagon  taste  ?  thou !  why,  We-an-dah,  what, 
What  has  got  in  thee,  man  !  that  eye  of  thine 
I  've  never  seen  with  such  sharp  glances  shine ! 
Thy  form  seems  loftier  too !  thy  native  woods 
Have  given  thee  one  of  thy  best  warrior  moods  ! 
What  has  got  in  thee,  man  !     I  thought  thy  throat 
Long  as  my  pike  when  wine  was  down  to  float !" 
Thus  as  the  gay  and  reckless  soldier  talked, 
Mute  by  his  side  We-an-dah  proudly  walked; 
His  figure,  lowly  bent  for  many  a  day, 
Seemed  towering  now,  beneath  the  wakened  sway 
Of  some  strong  feeling,  whilst  around  his  eye 
In  subtle  glances  never  ceased  to  fly. 


XIII. 

Thus  hours  passed  on,  until  the  sinking  sun 

Told  that  the  long  day's  march  was  nearly  done. 

They  now  another  ridge  were  crossing  o'er, 

On  either  side  deep  hollows  as  before. 

Sudden  We-an-dah's  roving  eye  beheld 

On  a  steep  hill,  that,  scarce  a  gunshot,  swelled 

Beyond  the  hollow  on  whose  edge  he  went, 

A  moving  object ;  keener  search  he  sent, — 

A  snowy  feather  from  behind  a  tree 

Was  thrust,  and  then  a  dark  face  cautiously 


THE    XIGHT- WATCH.  247 

Peered  forth ;  upon  the  bands  was  fixed  its  gaze, 
Seeming  with  anger  and  disdain  to  blaze ; 
But,  as  he  looked,  back  shrank  the  head,  and  there 
Again  the  pine-tree  reared  its  column  bare. 
We-an-dah  cast  round  furtive  glance  once  more : 
Distant,  short  way,  a  pikeman  strode  before, 
His  back-plate,  casque  and  pikehead  glancing  back 
Rays  of  keen  radiance  in  the  sunset's  track ; 
Another,  pausing,  was  refitting,  nigh, 
The  thick  plume  in  his  skull-cap  jerked  awry ; 
Another,  loud  protesting  he  would  melt, 
Was  loosening  the  broad  buckle  of  his  belt ; 
Whilst  Merle,  low  humming  some  familiar  song, 
Strode  with  his  heavy  jack-boots  slow  along, 
Stamping  his  prints  upon  the  fern  and  grass, 
The  air  thus  flavoring  with  crushed  sassafras. 
None  heeded  him,  he  turned  a  thicket  near, 
And  down  the  ridge-side  urged  his  fleet  career. 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH. 

XIV. 

Night,  in  its  earliest  watch,  was  glowing  now, 
And  on  a  lofty  summit's  wooded  brow 
The  Atotarho  stood  :  the  cloudless  arch 
Glowed  with  its  stars  in  their  majestic  march, 
Here  sketching  outlines, — strewed,  disordered  there — 
Some  quick  pulsating,  others  fixed  in  glare, 
Whilst  through  the  whole,  in  gorgeous  broad  array 
Sprang,  linked  in  snow-white  light,  the  Milky  Way, 


248  FRONTENAC. 

XV. 

As  Thurenserah  viewed  the  lovely  sky, 

It  looked,  to  his  wild  fancy-shaping  eye, 

Like  holy  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  bosom,  bright 

With  his  thick  crowded  deeds,  one  glow  of  light — 

And  his  rich  belt  of  wampum  broadly  bound, 

White  as  his  pure  and  mighty  thoughts  around. 

XVI. 

But  other  feelings  came,  and  sad  his  view 

He  turned  below  ;  there  stood  in  glimmering  hue 

Frontenac's  tents,  whilst,  flaming  keen  and  red, 

Watch-fires  beneath  the  wood's  lopped  boughs  were  spread, 

In  which  the  pike  and  musket  ruddy  glowed, 

As  slow  athwart  each  blaze  the  sentries  strode. 

Frequent  loud  song  and  careless  laughter  broke 

From  the  encampment  in  commingled  strain, 
Whilst  cricket,  owl,  and  whip-poor-will  awoke 

The  night-wood's  stillness  round  him  holding  reign. 
As  there  the  frowning  Indian  gazed,  he  thought 
Of  all  the  bitter  scene  beneath  him  brought ; 
Of  that  strange  Pale-face  race  which,  years  ago, 

Were  seen  on  Cataraqui's  heaving  breast, 
As  the  Great  Bird  with  spreading  wings  of  snow, 

Bearer  of  grief  and  evil,  upward  pressed  ; 
First,  creeping  on  the  earth,  with  whispered  words 
Small  in  his  race's  ear  as  chirp  of  birds, 
Then,  rearing  high  their  haughty  fronts,  and  loud 
Speaking  their  will,  as  speaks  the  thunder-cloud. 
First,  stretching  trembling  hands  of  feeblest  clasp, 

Extending  then  their  pity-granted  bounds, 


THE    NIGHT-WATCH.  249 

Until  they  threatened,  with  insatiate  grasp, 

All,  all,  yes,  all  the  Red-man's  hunting  grounds. 
And  here,  oh  burning,  burning  thought  !  below 
Was  Yon-non-de-yoh,  that  detested  foe  ! 
Here,  in  the  forest's  most  profound  retreat  ! 

Whilst  of  the  host  of  warriors  he  had  won 
Together,  this  proud  enemy  to  meet, 

All  but  his  true  and  brave  Ho-nont-kohs  gone, 
And  they,  and  he,  close  hiding  in  their  fear 
As  from  the  prowling  panther  hides  the  deer. 
His  mother  too,  whose  bent  and  weary  tread 
He  'd  seen  near  Yon-non-de-yoh,  captive  led  ; 
And  then,  those  cunning,  base  and  treacherous  arts 
Which  in  their  net  had  trapped  his  warriors'  hearts. 
Vile  A-ga-yen-teh  !  here  he  grimly  smiled ; 
We-an-dah  !  clutched  his  fingers  fierce  and  wild, 
His  tomahawk  in  vengeful,  deadly  wrath, 

He  whom  he  'd  marked  throughout  the  livelong  day, 
As  close  he  hovered  round  the  invader's  path, 

Guiding,  and  he  an  Iroquois !  their  way  ; 
Oh  could  his  thirsty  hatchet  drink  his  blood  ! 

But  just  then  from  a  neighboring  thicket  sprung 
A  figure,  and  before  him,  cowering,  stood 

We-an-dah  !  high  his  tomahawk  he  swung, 
But  still  with  spreading  hands  and  head  bent  low, 

Motionless  stood  his  recreant  chieftain  there. 
The  Atotarho  stayed  the  falling  blow, 

He  could  not  strike  at  that  meek,  offering  air, 
But  in  his  sternest  tones  of  anger  said, 

"  Why  comes  fork-tongued  We-an-dah  here?"  the  Chief 
Answered,  but  lifted  not  his  humbled  head — 


250  FRONTENAC. 

"  As  the  last  sun  was  pouring  his  hot  sheaf 
Of  arrows  from  mid-sky,  We-an-dah  caught 
A  print  which  he  the  Atotarho's  thought, 
And  keeping  watch  as  neared  the  sun  his  grave, 
Beheld  the  Atotarho's  white  plume  wave 
From  the  pine's  ambush,  whilst  he  viewed  the  way 
That  Yon-non-de-yoh  took  with  his  array. 
This  foot  has  tracked,  eye  dwelt  on  him,  since  then, 
And  when  We-an-dah  saw  him  leave  the  glen, 
He  followed  to  yield  up  his  wretched  life 
To  his  wronged  Atotarho's  vengeful  knife." 
"  We-an-dah!" — lowlier  bent  the  Indian's  head — 

"  The  Chieftain  and  the  Warrior  !  he  whose  whoop 
Had  rung  so  often  on  the  war-path  red, 

Suffered  his  crouching  broken  soul  to  stoop, 
The  burning  fire-water's  slave  to  be ; 
The  crawling  serpent  loftier  far  than  he  ; 
That  made  him  coward,  woman,  when  his  word 
Of  warning  fear  was  in  thy  council  heard  ; 
We-an-dah  meant  not  treachery  !  no  !  he  felt 
His  prostrate  soul  within  his  bosom  melt 
With  fright  at  Yon-non-de-yoh's  numbers  !  he 
Spoke  as  he  felt — he  wished  the  Braves  to  flee, 
To  save  them  from  the  lifted  arm  whose  blow 
He  thought  would  lay  the  League  for  ever  low  ; 
But  when  they  fought  amongst  themselves,  in  dread 
Some  knife  might  reach  his  quailing  heart,  he  fled  ; 
His  fiery  thirst  its  reign  claimed  also  o'er, 
And  Yon-non-de-yoh  thus  he  joined  once  more. 
"  But,"  here  he  lifted  up  his  frowning  brow, 
"  We-an-dah's  all  Ho-de-no-sonne  now, 


THE    NIGHT-XVATCH.  251 

His  warrior  heart  once  more  has  come  to  him ; 
His  blinded  eyesight  is  no  longer  dim  ; 
Great  Atotarho,  listen  then !  again 
Will  the  next  sun  light  Yon-uon-de-yoh's  train, 
Threading  our  people's  forests  in  their  pride, 
We-an-dah  still  their  seeming  friend  and  guide. 
Listen  !  as  shuts  that  sun  once  more  his  eye, 

The  Atortarho  with  his  faithful  band 
In  the  '  Wolf's  throat'  like  lurking  snakes  will  lie, 

Hatchet,  fusee,  and  knife  in  every  hand  ; 
And  when  We-an-dah,  Yon-non-de-yoh  there 
Conducts,  the  Atotarho's  whoop  in  air 
Will  burst  and  pierce  his  ears  with  fiercest  wrath, 
Whilst  glad  We-an-dah  by  another  path 
Than  the  up-cavern's  found  one  day  by  him, 
Chasing  a  fleeing  wolf,  will  with  swift  limb 
Leave  Yon-non-de-yoh  trapped,  and  scale  the  height 
To  join  his  valiant  brothers  in  the  fight!" 
Within  the  thicket  once  again  he  sprung, 
As  the  last  words  fell  rapid  from  his  tongue  ; 
And  slowly  down  the  hill's  opposing  side 
The  Atotarho  bent  his  thoughtful  stride, 
And  plunged  within  the  tangled  glen  beneath, 
Where  the  night's  silence  brooded,  hushed  as  death  ; 
But,  as  if  wakened  by  his  gliding  tread, 
From  some  black  bush  would  rise  a  frequent  head, 
Until  he  reached  a  grape  vine's  arbor  vast, 
And  there,  as  if  for  sleep,  his  form  he  cast. 


END    OF    CANTO    EIGHTH. 


CANTO   NINTH. 


THE  BATTLE. 
THE  TORTURE. 
THE  DEFIANCE. 


THE  DEATH. 
FRONTENAC. 
MASS  FOR  THE  DEAD. 


CANTO  NINTH. 


THE  BATTLE. 


THE  sunset  was  pouring  its  yellow  flood 
In  a  long  deep  glen  of  the  boundless  wood, 
A  precipice  sought  on  one  side  the  sky, 

The  wall  on  the  other  arose  less  steep 
With  great  rocks  broken,  and  ledges  high, 

With  tall  trees  clustered  and  thickets  deep  : 
'Twas  the  dark  "  Wolf's  throat,"  and  slept  it  still, 
Nought  heard  but  the  tap  of  the  woodpecker's  bill, 
And  nought  in  the  narrow  vista  seen 
But  birds  in  and  out  of  their  dwellings  green. 


n. 

Now  slow  from  a  bush  on  the  sloping  side 
Was  thrust  a  savage's  plumaged  head  ; 
Along  the  passage  his  eye  he  sped, 
And  "  Yu-we-lon-doh  !"  he  quickly  cried. 
Another  grim  Indian  arose  from  his  lair, 
And  instantly  then  were  uplifted  in  air, 
From  jutting  rock  and  from  hollow  trunk, 
From  the  head  of  the  hemlock  downward  sunk, 


256  FRONTENAC. 

From  bush  of  cedar  and  mossy  mound, 
Scalp-locks  bristling  in  scores  around ; 
The  next  all  vanished,  rock,  bush,  and  tree, 
Resuming  once  more  their  tranquillity. 

in. 

Next  snapping  of  twig  and  careless  song, 
And  beating  of  steps  from  a  trampling  throng, 
Waving  of  feather  and  shining  of  brand, 
Frontenac  with  his  approaching  band. 


IV. 

Through  the  hollow  they  crowding  tread, 
Which  seems  a  torrent's  abandoned  bed, 
With  rock  and  gravel  to  form  its  floor, 
And  spotted  with  pools  and  thickets  o'er. 
Birds  from  the  bushes  loud  chirping  dart, 
Rabbit  and  squirrel  affrighted  start ; 
Save  these,  deep  silence  and  solitude 
Seem  o'er  the  gloomy  scene  to  brood. 
Still  in  they  tread,  till  a  rocky  wall 
Blocks  up  the  passage  with  sudden  fall. 

v. 

At  once  the  air  is  filled  with  cries 
That  from  the  broken  steep  arise, 
Pealing  and  echoing  to  the  skies, 
Whilst  on  the  startled  crowd, 
From  rock,  and  tree,  and  bush,  and  mound, 
Comes  one  quick  simultaneous  sound  ; 


THE    BATTLE.  257 

Though  not  an  enemy  is  found ; 

All  is  confusion  loud  ! 
Down  sinks  the  dying  musketeer, 
The  pikeman  stands  aghast  with  fear, 
The  Indian  seeks  the  thicket  near, 
But  keen  in  every  deafened  ear 

The  warwhoops  rise  once  more  ; 
Again  rock,  tree,  and  thicket  gleam, 
Again  the  shots  upon  them  stream, 

Again  forms  drop  in  gore  ; 
Frontenac's  voice  calls  out  in  vain, 
"  Stand  to  your  arms  !" — the  wildered  train 
Hear  the  stern  warwhoops  ring  again, 
And  feel  once  more  the  leaden  rain, 

Fall  back,  sway  to  and  fro. 
All  gaze  around,  but  nought  they  see 
But  rock,  and  bush,  and  bank,  and  tree, 
Whence  shoots  the  flame  of  the  fusee, 
And  deadly  balls  shower  fearfully  ; 

No  mark  for  aim  or  blow, 
Save  now  and  then  a  plumaged  head, 
A  tawny  arm,  a  legging  red, 
A  muzzle  bent,  an  eye  of  dread, 
An  instant  seen,  an  instant  fled, 

Ere  gun  or  pike  can  bear. 
Although  six  hundred  gallant  men 
Were  gathered  in  that  narrow  glen, 

All  yielded  to  despair  ; 
Veterans  of  many  a  bloody  field, 
Whose  creed,  to  mortal  foe  than  yield 

Was  with  stern  pride  to  die  ; 


258  FRONTENAC.^ 

And  Red-men,  burning  to  oppose 
Their  fierce  hereditary  foes, 
With  wild  and  craven  terror  shook, 
And  cast  round  many  an  anxious  look 

Where,  where  to  hide  or  fly ; 
Destruction  seemed  to  hover  round, 
Though  such  their  numbers,  scarce  was  found 

Room  for  the  fall'n  to  lie. 


VI. 

Ta-wen-deh,  with  his  eager  hand 

On  his  fusee,  defying  stand 

Had  taken,  where  in  crowded  band 

Had  paused  his  tawny  host, 
All  cowering,  as  amongst  them  came 
Death  borne  upon  the  frequent  flame, 

Forgotten  song  and  boast, 
When,  lo!  a  thicket,  clustering  dense 
Upon  the  side,  was  scattered  thence 
(Planted  by  mocking  art),  and  there 

(Ah,  treachery  !  ah,  treachery  !) 
Was  grim  Ska-nux-heh,  pointing  where 

A  slanting  cavern  opened  free 
A  passage  up  the  rugged  steep 
Then  leading  way  with  struggling  leap  ; 
Safe  from  the  death  all  round  that  fell, 
Ta-wen-deh  entered  with  a  yell, 
And  echoing  it  with  piercing  swell 
Each  Redman  leaves  the  fatal  dell. 


THE    BATTLE.  259 

Following  Ska-nux-heh,  up  they  went, 
The  cavern's  roof  above  them  bent, 
Till  suddenly  it  ceased,  and  round 
Ledges  and  trees  were  only  found ; 
But  still  Ska-nux-heh  for  their  guide, 
They  turned  their  bosoms  to  the  side. 
Now  to  the  pine's  great  roots  they  clung, 
Now  to  the  elm's  drooped  branches  hung, 
Now  by  the  hemlock  up  they  swung, 
And  now  from  rock  to  rock  they  sprung, 

Till  all  firm  footing  made  ; 
Then  each  one  sought  his  bush  and  tree, 
And  sent  the  deadly  bullet  free 
In  turn  upon  the  enemy, 

Whose  coverts  were  betrayed. 
Then  shrub  and  grass  shot  startled  look, 
Then  rose  plumed  heads  from  many  a  nook, 
Trees  with  descending  figures  shook, 
Wild  warriors  crouching  lairs  forsook, 

And  sought  each  open  space  ; 
Then  closed  the  foes  in  desperate  strife, 
With  hatchet,  clubbed  fusee  and  knife, 

Fierce  struggling  face  to  face. 


VII. 

From  the  impending  death  relieved, 
The  soldiers  new-born  hope  received, 
And,  shaming  of  their  late  despair, 
With  bracing  strength  they  upwards  bear, 
Climbing  the  cavern  high  ; 


260  FRONTENAC. 

The  fray  above  fills  eye  and  ear, 

Now  far — now  nigh — now  there — now  here 

Shot,  clash,  and  groan  and  cry. 
Between  the  trees  quick  figures  dash, 
Echo  fusees  and  hatchets  flash, 

Blood  pattering,  falls  from  o'er  ; 
The  dead  and  dying  now  and  then 
Roll  past  them  downward  to  the  glen, 

Marking  their  path  with  gore. 
Still  up  they  climbed,  and  now  their  sight 
Embraced  in  widening  scope  the  fight. 
Here  on  the  ground  writhed,  snake-like,  foes ; 
There  face  to  face,  exchanged  they  blows ; 
With  aimed  fusee,  here,  crouching  deep, 
There,  bounding  on  with  hatchet's  sweep ; 
One  shout  for  France,  the  air  that  rent, 
The  flushed  and  eager  soldiers  sent, 
And  in  the  furious  combat  blent, 
O'ermatched  in  numbers  now,  and  caught 
In  their  own  ambush,  wildly  fought 
The  brave  Ho-nont-kohs,  but  for  nought ; 

Hemmed  in  on  every  hand, 
Each  desperate  effort  only  brought 

Thicker  the  knife  and  brand. 


VIII. 

At  the  first  burst  of  the  attack, 
From  his  spurned  chair  had  Frontenac 
Sprung  to  his  feet,  and  round,  on  high, 
Had  swept  his  fierce  unquailing  eye. 


THE    BATTLE.  261 

And  sent  his  loud  and  stern  command 
Amongst  his  rocking,  jostling  band, 
To  brave  the  worst,  unflinching  stand. 
— As  still  within  the  glen  he  stood, 

He  saw,  above,  a  swaying  throng, 

Passing  a  broad-spread  ledge  along 
— Bare  from  the  usual  cloak  of  wood, 
Where  pikes  and  blades  and  hatchets  rose, 
Darted  and  fell,  one  storm  of  blows  ; 
That  instant  broke  the  clustered  strife, 

And  a  young  warrior  met  his  sight, 
Hewing  his  way  through  with  hatchet  and  knife, 

Pikemen  and  Indians  surrounding  his  flight ; 
Another  savage  beside  him  clung, 
And  fiercely  his  knife  too  and  tomahawk  swung  ; 
Foe  after  foe  about  them  fell, 

But  pike  and  hatchet  still  barred  their  path, 
The  young  Brave's  struggles  were  terrible, 

Whilst  battled  the  other  with  dogged  wrath  ; 
The  face  of  that  other  met  Frontenac's  eye, 
He  started,  and  pointing  his  sword  with  cry, 
"  We-an-dah  !  base  wretch!  slay  the  treacherous  hound  !" 
Sprang  toward  the  cavern  with  feeble  bound, 
But  just  then  came  flashing  a  tomahawk's  blow, 
On  the  head  of  We-an-dah  who  dropped  below, 
Whilst  broke  the  young  Brave  with  a  mighty  bound 
From  the  cluster  of  foes  that  were  pressing  him  round. 
From  thicket  to  thicket,  from  ledge  to  ledge, 

Now  seen  and  now  lost,  dashed  the  warrior  free, 
Leaping  now  from  some  dizzy  edge, 

Swinging  now  by  some  hanging  tree  ; 


262  FKONTENAC. 

Bullets  cut  branches  beside  his  head, 

Hatchets  whirled  past  him,  but  still  he  fled  ; 

At  length  through  the  cavern  that  opened  at  hand 

Emerged  the  fierce  savage  by  Frontenac's  side  ; 
The  veteran  flashed  at  his  bosom  his  brand, 

But  on,  without  check,  went  the  warrior's  stride 
Forward  through  the  hollow's  gloom, 
Like  a  white  bird  skims  his  plume, — 
But  the  foremost  of  those  that  came, 
After  him  bounded  Ska-nux-heh's  frame  ; 

Onward,  onward  through  the  dell 
Fleet  the  Atotarho  went, 
But  now  Ska-nux-heh's  fusee  was  bent, 
The  bullet  in  Kah-kah's  revenge  was  sent, 

And,  midst  the  father's  triumphant  yell, 

The  Atotarho  headlong  fell. 


THE  TORTURE. 


IX. 


Night  was  around,  the  moon  serene 

Shed  o'er  all  objects  her  beautiful  sheen  ; 

On  the  tents,  through  the  boughs  of  the  forest  she  beamed ; 

On  the  weapons  up-piled,  and  round  scattered,  she  gleamed  ; 

In  a  small  hollow,  a  pillared  blaze 

Blotted  the  silver  with  ruddy  glaze  ; 

Scowling  Hurons  a  stake  stood  round, 

Where,  branches  piled  round  him,  We-an-dah  was  bound. 


THE     TORTURE. 


X. 

Hundreds  were  crowded  to  view  the  sight, 
The  buff-coat  and  corslet  were  bathed  in  light 
Borne  by  the  pikemen  and  musketeer ; 
And  in  the  radiance  ruddy  and  clear, 
The  face  of  the  wild  Adirondack  was  keen 
As  he  waited  impatient  the  torture-scene  ; 
Whilst  loftily  in  his  chair  placed  high, 
Frontenac  sat  with  a  gleaming  eye. 

XI. 

Shouting  and  leaping  the  Hurons  went, 
Wildly  and  fiercely  their  limbs  they  bent ; 
As  each  one  passed  he  thrust  his  knife 

Deep  in  the  stern  We-an-dah's  flesh, 
Who,  though  all  over  were  wounds  from  the  strife, 

Though  at  each  thrusting  burst  out  afresh 
In  torrents  the  smoking  and  purple  gore, 
Unflinching,  unshrinking,  the  torture  bore. 
As  peeled  from  his  body  the  skin  in  strips 
The  death-song  rose  to  his  scornful  lips, 
Rose  to  his  lips,  while  his  haughty  eyes 
Sought  the  pure  depths  of  the  rosy  skies. 


XII. 

At  length  from  the  stamping  circle  bounded 
Ta-wen-deh,  head  of  the  savage  band, 

Close  to  We-an-dah  ;  his  whoop  resounded 
As  he  kindled  the  pile  with  a  fiery  brand. 


264  FRONTENAC. 

But  as  shot  a  red  streak  the  doomed  Chieftain  around, 

He  leaped  with  a  mighty  convulsive  bound, 

The  shrivelled  thongs  parted — swift  forward  he  sprung, 

From  the  belt  of  Ta-wen-deh  the  hatchet  he  tore, 
One  moment  in  air  the  keen  weapon  he  swung, 

And  headlong  the  Huron  fell  dead  in  his  gore. 
Then,  with  a  staggering  faltering  force 
He  cast  the  red  hatchet ;  in  wavering  course 
It  circled  by  Frontenac's  head  so  near, 
That  he  sprung  from  his  chair  with  a  look  of  fear, 
Then  plunging  down,  with  his  arms  outspread, 
Prone  on  his  face  lay  We-an-dah  dead. 


THE  DEFIANCE. 

XIII. 

Again  rose  the  morn !     From  the  pine-top  she  bent 
Her  rich  golden  glory  on  Frontenac's  tent ; 
The  Griffins  were  drooping  the  canvas  o'er, 
Two  of  the  Guardsmen  were  striding  before : 
Within  sat  Frontenac ;  on  each  hand 
His  leaders,  arrayed  with  plume,  mantle,  and  brand. 
Ska-nux-heh,  the  traitor  !  was  cowering  nigh, 
With  gratified  hate  in  his  sullen  eye. 
Full  in  Frontenac's  flashing  view 

Thurenserah,  the  hapless  stood, 
A  bandage  displaying  in  ruddy  hue, 

Where  the  fell  bullet  had  drank  his  blood 


THE    DEFIANCE. 

Strove  he  to  rise  to  his  fullest  height, 
Yet  over  his  slender  and  graceful  frame, 

Swaying  it  with  a  fearful  might, 

Droopings  and  totterings  frequent  came. 

"  Wolf!"  burst  Frontenac  out  at  length. 

"  Caught  at  last  in  thy  den  of  strength  ! 

Prepare  to  howl  thy  death-song  no\v, 

No  more  wilt  thou  seek  me  with  murderous  blow  ! 

And  yet" — less  stern  grew  his  gleaming  eye — 

"  I  know  not,  but  scarce  would  I  have  thee  die  ! 

Answer !     Why  didst  thou  my  young  men  slay  f — 

Why  didst  thou  keep  on  thy  vengeful  way. 

With  hatchet  and  torch,  when  I  wished  my  hand 

Knit  with  thine  own  in  friendship's  band  ?" 

XIV. 

The  Atotarho  manned  his  frame 

And  said,  whilst  glowed  his  eye  with  flame, 

"  From  Yon-non-de-yoh's  lodge  of  pride, 

The  Cataraqni  swift  beside, 

To  \vhere  the  birds  for  ever  sing, 

And  flowers  their  sweets  unceasing  fling, 

The  Ongue  Honwee  sway  the  knife 

Won  by  long  years  of  bloody  strife ; 

The  streams  our  swift  ka-we-yahs  skim, 

Our  war-whoops  wake  the  forests  dim, 

The  vales  and  mountains  hold  our  game  ; 

And  should  the  tribes  lift  hatchet  red, 
Their  lodges  melt  in  midnight  flame, 

Heaped  are  their  war-paths  with  their  dead, 


266  FROXTENAC. 

Yet  Yon-non-de-yoh  to  the  sky 
Lifts  his  proud  front,  casts  round  his  eye, 
And  says,  '  These  hunting-grounds  are  mine  ! 
And  bids  his  deadly  lightnings  shine ; 
Pvears  his  stone  huts  within  our  woods, 
Sends  his  winged  pirogues  o'er  our  floods. 
And  threatens  in  his  burning  wrath 
To  sweep  e'en  Corlear  from  his  path. 
Does  not  the  panther  guard  his  den  ? 

Nay,  does  not  e'en  the  timid  deer 

Turn  when  the  hunter  comes  too  near  ? 
And  shall  not  Thurenserah,  then, 
With  his  best  blood  protect  the  earth 
Owned  by  his  People,  whence  their  birth  ? 
And  did  not  Yon-non-de-yoh  spread 

In  Thurenserah 's  path  a  snare, 
E'en  whilst  the  Calumet  he  bore  '.' 

Sa-ha-wee  too  !" — a  look  of  care 
Dwelt  transient  on  his  features  red, 

Then  grew  they  calm  and  high  once  more. 
"  And  has  not  Yon-non-de-yoh  come, 

With  all  his  warriors  in  array, 
To  Thurenserah's  forest-home, 

His  huts  to  burn,  his  People  slay  ? 
Where  are  his  brave  Ho-nont-kohs  !  those, 

Who  round  their  Atotarho  stood 
When  friends  proved  false,  and  threatened  foes  ; 

Low  lie  they  in  their  blood. 
And  Y"a-we-lon-doh  !  of  the  band 

The  loftiest!  in  the  '  Wolf's  throat'  too 


THE    DEATH.  267 

He  lies;  and  gone  We-an-dah,  who, 

Midst  the  scorned  Huron  dogs  upflew, 
To  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  Spirit-land. 
But  yet,  though  Yon-non-de-yoh's  knife 
Points  at  the  Atotarho's  life, 
Though  Hah-wen-ne-yo's  smiles  depart, 

Though  storms  upon  his  head  have  burst, 
Up  Thurenserah  lifts  his  heart, 

And  proud  and  lofty  as  when  first 
He  braved  the  White  man's  power  and  art, 

Dares  Yon-non-de-yoh  do  his  worst !" 

xv. 

"  Ha  !  speak'st  thou  words  like  these  to  me  ?" 
Frontenac  thundered.     "  Dar'st  thou,  slave  ? 

Ska-nux-heh,  bear  him  to  the  stake  ! 
We  '11  see  if  there  he  '11  tower  so  brave — 

If  flame  will  not  his  spirit  break. 
Haste  !  let  us  from  his  prate  be  free !" 


THE  DEATH. 

XVI. 

In  a  green  opening  by  Frontenac's  tent, 
Circling  a  stake,  in  their  varied  mien, 

Again  was  the  throng  of  the  army  blent, 
Seemingly  waiting  a  coming  scene. 


268  FRONTENAC. 

Suddenly  shrill  whoops  rent  the  sky, 

And  midst  an  advancing  Indian  host, 
The  Atotarho  met  each  eye, 

Treading  in  majesty  toward  the  post. 
Beside  him  Ska-nux-heh,  the  bloody,  came 
With  a  pine-torch  flaring  in  smoky  flame ; 
Louder  and  louder  the  whoops  pealed  out, 
Wildly  flashed  hatchets  and  knives  about, 
But  calmly  his  way  Thurenserah  took, 
Forward  he  gazed  with  a  steadfast  look, 
That  look  from  all  traces  of  passion  exempt, 
Save  that  of  freezing  and  lofty  contempt, 
Trampling  beneath  e'en  the  weakness  and  pain, 
So  late  before  Frontenac  claiming  their  reign. 


XVII. 

Now  to  the  stake  is  bound  his  waist, 

Leaves  and  branches  are  round  him  placed  ; 

Then  as  ceases  the  whooping  din, 

Ska-nux-heh's  revilings  and  taunts  begin. 

"  Kooh !  dog  and  coward  !  he  fears  to  die  ! 

He  cannot  look  in  a  warrior's  eye  ! 

Kooh  !  trembling  deer  !  when  he  comes  to  his  pain, 

His  moans  will  echo,  tears  fall  like  rain ! 

That  the  great  Atotarho !  shame ! 

I  see  but  a  coward  who  fears  the  flame ! 

That  Thurenserah  proud  and  high  ! 

I  see  but  a  coward  who  fears  to  die !" 


THE    DEATH.  269 


XVIII. 

Down  in  disdain  the  young  warrior  gazed, 

At  first  on  Ska-nux-heh  ;  his  brow  then  he  raised, 

As  if  lifting  his  soul  o'er  the  jeer  and  the  taunt, 

And  from  the  bright  hunting-grounds  waiting  him,  he 
Was  scenting  the  feast  of  the  strawberry, 
And  forth  rushed  his  death-song  in  rapturous  chaunt ; 
Ringing  more  loud,  as  his  foe  more  fierce 
Hurled  his  scorn,  till  Ska-nux-heh  pressed, 
Close  to  his  victim,  to  tear  from  his  breast 
The  close  white  robe,  that  his  knife  might  pierce 
The  naked  flesh  e'er  he  kindled  the  fire, 
"Where  the  proud  Atotarho  was  doomed  to  expire. 


XIX. 

Forward  across  his  tent  and  back, 
With  hurried  stride  went  Frontenac. 
Deepest  determination  now 
Was  seated  on  his  frowning  brow ; 
Doubt  wavered  then  within  his  eye — 
"  So  young,  so  gallant !  thus  to  die  ! 
And  yet!" — his  face  again  grew  stern, 
Until  it  worked  with  passion's  strife — 
"  Did  not  his  hatchet  seek  my  life  ? 
Did  it  not  strike  down  young  Lavergne  ? 
And" — here  his  wrinkled  brow  was  fraught 
With  weblike  lines  of  crafty  thought — 
"  Daring  and  wise  !  he  's  formed  to  lead 


270  FRONTENAC. 

The  Iroquois  to  greatest  deed  ; 
Escaping  now,  he  '11  tread  some  hour 
Upon  my  neck  to  loftiest  power. 
He  dies  !" — Just  then  a  figure  dashed 

Within  the  tent,  "  Sa-ha-wee  !" — wild 
Her  starting  eyeballs  on  him  flashed. 

"  Fly  !  save  her  !  haste !  my  child  !  our  child  ! 
O-nah-tah,  hear'st  thou  !  ours  !  she  dies  !" — 

"  Who,  who,  Sa-ha-wee!" — 

"She!  Lucille!— 
The  Atotarho  !"     Shrill  her  cries 

On  his  bewildered  senses  peal. 
"  Lucille  !  the  Atotarho  !  quick, 

Explain — quick,  woman!" — 

From  her  tongue 

The  rapid  words  in  torrents  sprung, 
Although  with  anguish  hoarse  and  thick, 

Whilst  at  his  feet  her  form  she  flung ; 
"  When  Ku-an — Atotarho — fell, 
Had  not  Ta-yo-nee  died  as  well, 
He  would  the  dignity  have  worn 

By  our  law's  course,  and  next,  my  child, 
Had  she — thou  hear'st — a  son  been  born  ; 

A  thought  flashed  o'er  me  quick  and  wild  !  * 
When  came  Ta-yo-nee  with  her,  night 

Wrapped  all,  none  saw,  her  life  knew  none, 
And  at  first  tidings  of  the  death 
Of  him  and  Ku-an,  with  loud  breath 
From  the  Tcar-jis-ta-yo's  dread  height, 
As  Priestess,  armed  thus  in  my  might, 

Her  life  I  told  but  as  a  son, 


THE    DEATH.  271 

All  their  young  Atotarho  hailed, 

The  Union  Feast  approved  the  claim, 
And  whilst  his  boyish  years  prevailed, 

Bade  Sken-an-do-ah  bear  the  name ; 
Still  stand'st  thou  here  to  see  her  die ! 
Fly  !  on  my  knees  I  ask  it !  fly  !" — 
"  Woman  !  thou  told'st  me  she  was  dead  !" — 

"  I  did  !  my  secret  still  to  keep  !" — 

Bewilderment,  amazement  deep, 
Yet  Frontenac's  pale  visage  spread. 
"  Knows  she,  Sa-ha-wee,  I  'm  her  sire  ?" 
"  No !  like  the  League  she  only  knew 
Her  father  in  the  Paleface  Brave, 
In  his  false  tale  Ta-yo-nee  slew — 
Haste,  haste,  they  '11  kindle  soon  the  fire  ; 
Will  not  his  child  a  father  save  ? 
Fly,  fly!  O-nah-tah!  fly  !"— 

A  shout 

Broke  just  then  from  the  crowd  without — 
A  shout  of  wonder  wild — he  sprung, 
The  tent's  front  folds  he  open  flung, 
There,  Heavenly  Powers  !  St  Francis !  there  ! 
There,  with  a  woman's  breast  made  bare 
By  the  recoiled  Ska-nux-heh's  hands, 
The  mighty  Atotarho  stands, 
Stands  with  a  shrinking  drooping  frame, 
As  if  crushed  down  with  deepest  shame  ; 
But  as  looked  Frontenac,  like  thought 

Lucille  leaned  forward,  stretched  her  arm, 
The  torch  from  froze  Ska-nux-heh  caught 


FRONTENAC. 

And  fired  the  pile  ;  in  mad  alarm 
Forward  the  father  leaped  with  cry 
Of  "pluck  him  thence!"  yelled  shrill  and  high, 
"  Ho!  pluck  him  thence  !"  his  hair  streams  out, 
His  arms  he  stretches, — but  the  shout 
None  of  the  crowd  wild-rocking  hears  ; 

All  is  confusion  clamorous  there, 

Eyes  forward  fixed,  tongues  rending  air, 
The  fires  dread  crackling  fills  his  ears, 
And  on  he  struggles,  "  pluck  him  thence  !" 

None  heed,  obey  none,  still  he  calls, 
Till  darkness  sweeps  o'er  every  sense, 

And,  fainting,  midst  the  throng  he  falls. 
A  form  springs  past  with  frantic  force, 
Through  the  dense  crowd  it  cleaves  its  course. 
"  The  Priestess  !"  on — down  gleams  her  knife, 
Ska-nux-heh  yields  his  groaning  life  ; 
Into  the  fire  she  dashes  now, 

And,  nerved  with  all  her  mad  despair, 
One  flashing  wreath  around  her  brow, 

Around  her  form  one  blazing  glare, 
She  breaks  from  out  the  scattered  flame, 
And  forth  she  drags  a  blackened  frame 
Which,  staggering  wildly  to  its  knee, 

An  arm  throws  proudly  to  the  skies, 
Sounds  a  low  war-whoop  brokenly, 

Then  drops  and,  struggling  faintly,  dies. 
Turned  into  stone,  with  frenzied  gaze, 
The  talons  of  the  ravenous  blaze 
Keen  in  her  flesh,  the  Priestess  kneels 


FRONTENAC.  273 

Beside  her  child,  a  shriek  then  peals, 

A  shriek  of  agony,  so  shrill, 

It  made  the  hearts  all  round  her  thrill, 

Then  swift  as  light,  her  knife  she  sheathed 

Within  her  breast,  her  blood  gushed  red, 
And  as  "  I  come,  Lucille  !"  she  breathed, 

She  fell  across  her  daughter,  dead. 


FRONTENAC. 

xx. 

Years,  alas  !  how  fast  they  fly  ! 
April's  clouds  along  the  sky  ! 
Bubbles  on  the  gliding  stream  ! 
Dyes  that  in  the  rainbow  gleam  ! 
Leaves  that  autumn's  tempests  sever ! 
Thus  they  fly,  and  fly  for  ever  ! 


XXI. 


Five  rapid  years  have  passed  away, 

And  on  Quebec's  embattled  height 
The  sunset  sleeps  with  mellow  ray, 

Making  the  mountain  soft  and  bright. 
Rich  rose  is  on  Cape  Diamond's  head, 
Glints,  here  and  there,  the  river's  bed, 
While  to  the  voyageur's  rude  eye, 
Paddling  along  his  birch  canoe, 


274  FRONTENAC. 

A  streak  of  silver,  curving  high 

The  gold  enamelled  foliage  through, 
Tells  the  tall  Montmorenci's  leap 
From  its  sunk  valley  down  the  steep. 


XXII. 

The  wide  Place  d'Armes  in  shade  was  cast, 

And  on  it  was  a  concourse  vast. 

Batteauman,  hunter,  coureur,  scout, 

Noble  and  monk,  were  grouped  about, 

Whispering  and  pale  as  if  in  fear 

That  some  calamity  was  near. 

"  He  's  dying,  Merle  !"  with  sorrowing  air 

The  young  Carignan  Pierre  said  low, 
"  How  know'st  thou?" 

"  The  old  Guard  Allaire 

Told  me  a  brief  half-hour  ago  !" 
"  Has  he  not  seemed  to  waste  away, 
Since  the  strange  dreadful  scene  that  day 
Down  in  the  On-on-dah-gah  woods?" 
"  Yes  !  all  through  those  grim  solitudes 
Haggard  his  visage  was  and  wild, 
And  since  that  hour  he  's  never  smiled. 
Well,  mainly  he  's  been  just  and  good, 
Though  fierce  and  hasty  in  his  mood  ; 
The  Holy  Virgin  waft  his  soul 
Up  to  its  pure  and  happy  goal !" 
"  Hark !"  just  then  came  a  deep  stern  swell 

Along  the  air,  a  heavy  clang  : 
It  was  the  Castle's  giant  bell, 


MASS    FOR  THE    DEAD.  275 

And  loud,  slow,  startling  tolls  it  rang. 
Clang,  clang  again — clang,  clang  again — 
It  seemed  to  strike  to  every  brain, 
The  low  vibrating  hum  between 
Quivering  along  the  awe-struck  scene. 
Stirred  by  one  impulse  stood  the  crowd 
With  brow  uncovered,  shoulders  bowed  ; 
They  knew  the  tale  that  solemn  bell, 
The  sorrowing  tale  'twas  swung  to  tell ; 
Quebec  rang  out  in  every  street, 
Cape  Diamond  back  the  volume  beat, 
The  walls  spoke  forth  in  deep  rebound, 
The  river's  breast  returned  the  sound  ; 
Itt  needed  not  that  gray  Allaire, 

With  trembling  voice  and  bended  head, 
Should  from  the  sally-port  declare 

That  noble  Frontenac  was  dead. 


MASS  FOR  THE  DEAD, 

XXIII. 

Sunset  again  o'er  Quebec 

Spread  like  a  gorgeous  pall ; 
Again  does  its  rich  glowing  loveliness  deck 

River,  and  castle,  and  wall. 
Follows  the  twilight  haze, 

And  now  the  star-gemmed  night ; 


276  FRONTENAC. 

And  outbursts  the  Recollets'  church  in  a  blaze 

Of  glittering  spangling  light. 
Crowds  in  the  spacious  pile 

Are  thronging  the  aisles  and  nave, 
With  soldiers  from  altar  to  porch,  in  file, 

All  motionless,  mute,  and  grave. 
Censers  are  swinging  around, 

Wax-lights  are  shedding  their  glare, 
And,  rolling  majestic  its  volume  of  sound, 

The  organ  oppresses  the  air. 
The  saint  within  its  niche, 

Pillar,  and  picture,  and  cross, 
And  the  roof  in  its  soaring  and  stately  pitch 

Are  gleaming  in  golden  gloss. 
The  chorister's  sorrowing  strain 

Sounds  shrill  as  the  winter  breeze, 
Then  low  and  soothing,  as  when  complain 

Soft  airs  in  the  summer  trees. 
The  taper-starred  altar  before, 

Deep  mantled  in  mourning  black, 
With  sabre  and  plume  on  the  pall  spread  o'er, 

Is  the  coffin  of  Frontenac. 
Around  it  the  nobles  are  bowed, 

And  near  are  the  guards  in  their  grief, 
Whilst  the  sweet-breathing  incense  is  wreathing  its  cloud 

Over  the  motionless  chief. 
But  the  organ  and  singer  have  ceased, 

Leaving  a  void  in  air, 
And  the  long-drawn  chaunt  of  the  blazon'd  priest 

Rises  in  suppliance  there. 
Again  the  deep  organ  shakes 


FRONTENAC.  277 

The  walls  with  its  mighty  tone, 
And  through  it  again  the  sweet  melody  breaks 

Like  a  sorrowful  spirit's  moan. 
A  snddeii  silence  now  ; 

Each  knee  has  sought  the  floor  ; 
The  priest  breathes  his  blessing  with  upturned  brow, 

And  the  requiem  is  o'er. 


END    OF    CANTO    NINTH. 


13 


NOTES. 


NOTES. 


CANTO  FIRST, 

STANZA    I. 

1  Tvvas  in  June's  bright  and  glowing  prime, 
The  loveliest  of  the  summer  time. 
The  laurels  were  one  splendid  sheet 
Of  crowded  blossom  everywhere  ; 
The  locust's  clustered  pearl  was  sweet, 
And  the  tall  whitewood  made  the  air 
Delicious  with  the  fragrance  shed 
From  the  gold  flowers  all  o'er  it  spread." 

The  appearance  of  the  American  forests  in  June  is  truly  mag 
nificent.  The  fresh  leaves  are  so  closely  set,  and  are  so  bright  in 
hue,  as  to  cause  the  branches  to  look  as  if  clothed  in  an  emerald 
fleece.  The  laurel  thickets  are  one  sheet  of  superb  blossom, 
whilst  the  locust  and  the  whitewood  display  their  white  and  yel 
low  flowers  in  unison  with  the  dogwood,  linden,  and  chestnut,  aa 
if  the  wood  genii  had  scattered  gigantic  bouquets  among  the  green 
summits. 

STANZA    II. 

"  In  the  rich  pomp  of  dying  day 
Quebec,  the  rock-throned  monarch,  glowed." 

"  Quebec  is  from  '  Quebeio,'  which  in  the  Algonquin  language 
signifies  *  contraction.'  " — Ckarlevoix's  New  France, 


282  NOTES. 

*'  The  batteries  rude  that  niched  their  way 
Along  the  cliff." 

The  fortifications  of  Quebec  at  this  period  of  our  tale  (1672) 
were  very  incomplete,  consisting  of  batteries  scattered  along  the 
edges  and  inequalities  of  the  cliff,  with  here  and  there  palisades 
between,  and  embankments  of  earth  and  stone  upon  the  landward 
end  of  the  town. 

"  Beyond^  the  sweet  and  mellow  smile 
Beamed  upon  Orleans'  lovely  isle  ; 

Until  the  downward  view 
Was  closed  by  mountain-tops  that,  reared 
Against  the  burnished  sky,  appeared 

In  misty  dreamy  hue." 

"  The  river  itself  (the  St.  Lawrence)  which  is  between  five  and 
six  miles  wide,  visible  as  far  as  the  distant  end  of  the  Island  of 
Orleans,  where  it  loses  itself  amidst  the  mountains  that  bound  it 
on  each  side,  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  objects  in  nature." — 
Weld's  Travels  in  North  America. 


STANZA   XIX. 

"  Reared  on  the  cliff,  at  the  very  brink, 
Whence  a  pebble  dropped  would  sink 
Four-score  feet  to  the  slope  below, 
The  Castle  of  St.  Louis  caught." 

The  Castle  of  St.  Louis  was  built  upon  the  edge  of  a  rock  which 
fell  sheer  down  for  about  eighty  feet,  and  then  sloped  more  gradu 
ally  until  within  a  short  distance  of  the  river  side.  The  narrow 
strip  of  level  ground  immediately  along  the  river,  was  in  line 
with  the  rock,  scattered  with  huts  and  cabins  of  a  rude  descrip 
tion. 


NOTES.  283 


STANZA    XX. 

"  Opposite,  in  the  soft  warm  light 
The  Recollets'  steeple  glittered  bright ; 
And  tipped  with  gold  was  the  Convent  by, 
Whilst  both  threw  a  mantle  of  raven  dye 

The  broad  Place  d'Armes  across, 
That  up  to  the  massive  curtain  lay." 

"  The  fortress  of  St.  Louis  covered  about  four  acres  of  ground, 
and  formed  nearly  a  parallelogram  •  on  the  western  side, 
two  strong  bastions  on  each  angle  were  connected  by  a  curtain 
in  the  centre  of  which  was  a  sallyport." — Bouchette's  Canada. 

The  Castle  of  St.  Louis  stood  within  this  fortress.  "  Care 
should  be  taken,"  says  Hawkins,  in  his  Picture  of  Quebec,  "  to 
distinguish  between  the  castle  and  the  fortress  of  St.  Louis." 

<:  Twenty  paces  further  we  arrive  at  two  pretty  large  squares 
or  openings.  That  on  the  left  is  the  Place  d'Armes,  which  is  be 
fore  the  castle  where  the  Governor-General  resides.  The  Recol 
lets  are  opposite." — Charlevoix's  Description  of  Quebec  in  1711. 

"  The  Recollets'  Church  is  opposite  the  gate  of  the  palace  on 
the  west  side,  looks  well,  and  has  a  pretty  high-pointed  steeple." 
— Kalrris  Travels  in  North  America. 

Both  these  authors  wrote  some  time  after  the  periods  of  our  tale, 
and  probably  the  curtain  and  bastions  which  composed  the  fort 
were  removed  before  their  visits. 

"  Immediately  in  front  of  the  castle  was  an  esplanade  or  open 
space  still  called  the  Place  d'Armes,  on  one  side  of  which  stood 
the  church  and  convent  of  the  Recollets." — Hawkins'  Picture  of 
Quebec. 

STANZA    XXII. 
"  Wampum  in  varied  colors  strung." 

"  Belts  of  wampum  are  made  of  shells  found  on  the  coasts  of 


284  NOTES. 

New  England  and  Virginia,  which  are  sawed  out  into  beads  of  an 
oblong  form  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  long,  and  round  like  other 
beads.  Being  strung  on  leather  strips,  and  several  of  them  sewed 
neatly  together  with  fine  sinewy  threads,  they  then  compose  what 
is  termed  a  belt  of  wampum." — Carvers  Travels. 


STANZA    XXIV. 

"  The  Iroquois  in  their  dread  and  might 
Stood  frowning  in  his  mental  sight." 

"  The  name  of  '  Iroquois'  is  purely  French,  and  has  been  formed 
from  the  term  '  Hiro '  or  '  Hero '  which  signifies  '  I  have  said,' 
and  by  which  these  savages  terminate  their  discourse,  as  the 
Latins  sometimes  did  by  their  '  dixi  -1  and  from  '  Koue,'  which  is 
a  cry  as  well  of  distress  when  it  is  pronounced  long,  as  also  of 
joy  when  they  pronounce  it  shorter." — Histoire  et  Description  dela 
Nouvelle  France,  par  le  P.  De  Charlevoix. 

''Nought  in  the  woods  now  their  might  could  oppose. 
Nought  could  withstand  their  confederate  blows  ; 
Banded  in  strength  and  united  in  soul, 
They  moved  on  their  course  with  the  cataract's  roll." 

The  Iroquois  were  formerly  separate  nations,  and  for  a  long  time 
not  only  warred  amongst  themselves,  but  were  driven  from  point 
to  point  by  their  common  enemies,  the  Adirondacks,  the  Hurons, 
&c.  They  at  length,  however,  for  the  purpose  of  healing  their 
own  dissensions  and  to  protect  themselves  against  their  enemies, 
formed  themselves  into  a  League  or  Confederacy.  By  thus  con 
centrating  their  power,  they  were  not  only  enabled  successfully  to 
resist  aggression,  but  to  drive,  in  their  turn,  their  enemies  before 
them,  the  fire-arms  given  them  by  the  Dutch  assisting  them  mate 
rially  in  so  doing.  When  this  League  was  formed  is  uncertain. 


NOTES.  285 

44  Pyrlaus,  a  Missionary  at  the  ancient  site  of  Dionderoga  or  Fort 
Hunter,  writing  between  1742  and  1748,  states,"  says  School  craft 
in  his  Notes  on  the  Iroquois,  "  as  the  result  of  the  best  conjectures 
he  could  form,  from  information  derived  from  the  Mohawks,  that 
the  Alliance  took  place  '  one  age '  or  the  length  of  a  man's  life, 
before  the  White  people  came  into  the  country.  Taking  1609, 
the  era  of  the  Dutch  discovery,  and  estimating  4  a  man's  life '  by 
the  patriarchal  and  scriptural  rule,  we  should  not,  at  the  utmost, 
have  a  more  remote  date  than  1539,  as  the  origin  of  the  Confede 
racy." 

STANZA  xxv. 

<{  Wherever  the  banner  of  France  was  reared, 
The  blood-thirsty  hate  of  the  Braves  appeared  ; 
Kindled  against  Champlain  when  first 
His  lightning  death  on  their  sires  had  burst." 

44  The  progress  of  its  (Quebec's)  aggrandisement  was  slow,  for 
the  new  settlers,  and  indeed  Champlain  at  their  head,  were  not 
only  so  impolitic  as  to  encourage  the  prosecution  of  hostilities  be 
tween  the  two  neighboring  nations  of  Algonquins  (Adirondacks) 
and  Iroquois,  but  even  to  join  the  former  against  the  latter.  This 
interference  drew  upon  the  French  the  hatred  of  the  powerful 
Iroquois,  and  was  the  means  of  involving  the  whole  colony  in  a 
long  and  most  destructive  warfare,  which  at  an  early  period  ren 
dered  some  defensive  fortifications  necessary  to  protect  Quebec 
from  the  enmity  of  her  new  but  implacable  enemies." — Bouchette's 
Canada. 

STANZA    XXIX. 

"  A  captive  brought  to  the  shores  of  France 
By  noble  De  Tracy  with  her  sire/' 

The  Governors-General  of  Canada  were  accustomed  in  those 
13* 


286  NOTES. 

days  to  send  or  take  with  them  as  captives  to  France,  those  of  the 
native  race  who  had  fallen  into  their  hands.— See  the  Histories  of 
the  period. 


CANTO  SECOND. 

STANZA    II. 

"  Their  Long  House  extended  now,  spacious  and  high, 
The  branches  its  rafters,  its  canopy  sky, 
From  Co-ha-ta-te-yah's  full  oceanward  bed, 
To  where  its  great  bosom  Ontario  spread." 

The  term  "  Long  House"  was  used  by  the  Iroquois  symbolically, 
to  denote  the  League  they  had  formed,  and  also  to  describe  the 
continuity  of  their  possessions  or  territory.  The  Long  House  was 
constantly  alluded  to  by  their  orators,  and  also  in  conversation 
amongst  themselves. 

"  To  the  League  which  was  formed  on  the  banks  of  Onondaga 
Lake,"  says  Schoolcraft  in  his  Notes  on  the  Iroquois,  "  they  in 
time  gave  the  name  of  the  Long  House,  using  the  term  symboli 
cally,  to  denote  that  they  were  tied  and  braced  together  by  blood 
and  lineage  as  well  as  political  bonds.  This  House,  agreeably  to 
the  allusion  so  often  made  by  their  speakers  during  our  Colonial 
history,  reached  from  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  to  the  Lakes." 

*'  The  fierce  Adirondacks  had  fled  from  their  wrath, 
The  Hurons  been  swept  from  their  merciless  path." 

"  The  Iroquois,  after  they  confederated,  drove  the  Adirondacks 
from  their  ancient  hunting-grounds  around  Quebec,  and  under  its 
walls  defeated  the  Hurons  in  a  dreadful  battle  beneath  the  very 


NOTES.  287 

eyes  of  the  French,  who  dared  not  leave  the  protection  of  their 
embankments  to  assist  their  allies.  They  destroyed  the  nation 
called  the  Eries  on  the  borders  of  the  vast  lake  known  by  their 
name.  They  made  the  Ottawas  abandon  their  river,  humbled  the 
Lenni  Lenape  or  Delawares,  once  strong  and  powerful,  to  such  an 
extent  as  to  force  them  to  declare  themselves  women,  and  place 
themselves  under  the  protection  of  their  haughty  conquerors,  and 
at  last  carried  the  terror  of  their  arms  even  amongst  the  distant 
Illini,  Pequods,  and  even  Cherokees." — See  Golden' s  History  of 
the  Five  Nations,  School  craft's  Notes  on  the  Iroquois,  and  other  His 
tories  of  the  time. 

"  By  the  far  Mississippi,  the  Illini  shrank 
When  the  trail  of  the  TORTOISE  was  seen  on  the  bank ; 
On  the  hills  of  New  England  the  Pequod  turned  pale, 
When  the  howl  of  the  WOLF  swelled  at  night  on  the  gale  ; 
And  the  Cherokee  shook  in  his  green-smiling  bowers, 
When  the  foot  of  the  BEAR  stamped  his  carpet  of  flowers.'* 

"  Each  of  these  nations  (the  Five  Nations  or  Iroquois)  is  divi 
ded  again  into  three  tribes  or  families,  who  distinguish  themselves 
by  three  different  arms  or  ensigns — the  TORTOISE,  the  WOLF,  and 
the  BEAR/' — Colden's  History  of  the  Five  Nations.  (They  are 
called  the  Five  Nations  by  the  English,  and  the  Iroquois  by  the 
French.) 

There  were  five  other  totems  than  those  mentioned  by  Col- 
den,  but  these  three  were  the  most  ancient  and  the  highest  in  rank, 
the  totem  of  the  TORTOISE  being  the  highest  of  all,  on  account  of 
the  belief  of  the  Iroquois  that  the  earth  rested  on  the  back  of  a 
tortoise. 

The  order  of  the  eight  totems  resembled  somewhat  that  of  the 
tribes  of  Israel,  amongst  which  the  tribes  of  Benjamin  and  Judah 
pccupied  the  highest  grade. 

;'  They  (the  Five  Nations)  carried  their  arms  as  far  south  as 


288  NOTES. 

Carolina,  to  the  northward  of  New  England,  and  as  far  west  as 
the  river  Mississippi,  over  a  vast  country  which  extends  twelve 
hundred  miles  in  length  from  north  to  south,  and  about  six  hun 
dred  miles  in  breadth,  where  they  entirely  destroyed  many  nations, 
of  whom  there  are  now  no  accounts  remaining  among  the  English." 
— Golden"1  s  History  of  the  Five  Nations. 

STANZA  v. 
"  The  League's  Atotarho." 

The  Atotarho  is  the  head  chief  of  the  Troquois.  The  history  of 
this  rulership  is  as  follows  : — Just  before  the  formation  of  the 
Confederacy,  a  most  extraordinary  and  formidable  warrior  was 
heard  of  amongst  the  Onondagas.  Living  serpents  composed  the 
hairs  of  his  head,  which  so  entangled  and  knotted  themselves  up 
in  their  motions,  that  he  acquired  the  name  of  "  Atotarho,"  mean 
ing  "  entangled."  Not  only  was  his  head  a  mass  of  writhing 
reptiles,  but  his  fingers  and  toes  were  terminated  by  them,  hissing 
and  launching  out  their  tongues  perpetually.  So  dreadful  was 
his  aspect  that  the  very  sight  of  him  caused  instant  death. 
When  the  two  other  projectors  of  the  Alliance,  however,  visited 
him,  protected  by  Hah-we-ne-yo  in  their  divine  mission,  they  ap 
proached  and  divested  him  of  his  snaky  trappings,  unharmed.  At 
the  completion  of  the  Alliance  he  was  made  Grand  Sachem  of  the 
Confederacy,  his  two  brethren  supernaturally  disappearing.  He 
still  preserved  the  name  of  Atotarho,  and  when  he  died  his  name 
and  office  were  continued.  A  long  line  of  Atotarhos  thus  succeed 
ed,  extending  down  in  a  regular  chain  to  the  present  day. 

STANZA    VI. 

"  'Tvvas  May  !  the  Spring  with  magic  bloom 
Leaped  up  from  Winter's  frozen  tomb." 

"  Scarcely  is  the  ground  cleared  of  snow  in  Canada,  when  vege- 


NOTES.  289 

tation  breaks  forth,  not  gradually  as  with  us,  but  with  almost  pre 
ternatural  rapidity.'' — Mwrrtnft  British  America. 

"  The  yacht,  that  stood  with  naked  mast." 

The  yacht  was  a  species  of  vessel  much  used  in  the  rivers  and 
lakes  of  Canada  at  that  period,  and  frequently  mentioned  by  the 
old  writers.  It  bad  one  high  mast,  and  much  resembled  the  sloops 
that  ply  on  the  Hudson  and  other  rivers  in  the  United  States. 

"  The  brown  rossignol's  carol  shrill." 

This  is  one  of  the  earliest,  if  not  the  earliest,  Spring  bird  in 
Canada.  It  is  of  a  brown  color,  and  sings  sweetly. 

"  He  saw  the  coltsfoot's  golden  head." 

"The  coltsfoot  is  the  first  flower  of  Spring.  It  is  a  low,  yel 
low,  syngenesious  flower,  much  resembling  the  dandelion." — 
Gosse's  Canadian  Naturalist. 


STANZA    VIII. 
"  The  Huron  runner  of  Lorette." 

The  Hurons  of  Lorette  were  the  fast  allies  of  the  French,  and 
resided  in  the  little  village  of  Lorette  a  few  miles  from  Quebec. 
A  runner  was  a  messenger,  and  selected  for  his  speed  of  foot  and 
endurance  of  hunger  and  fatigue.  These  runners  would  frequent 
ly  travel  from  a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and  thirty  miles  between 
sun  and  sun. 

"  Holding  a  wampum  belt  in  sight, 
Of  braided  colors  black  and  white." 

"  Wampum  is  of  several  colors,  but  the  black  and  white  are 


290  NOTES. 

chiefly  used.  Those  given  to  Sir  William  Johnson  were  in  seve 
ral  rows,  black  on  each  side  and  white  in  the  middle ;  the  white 
being  placed  in  the  centre  was  to  express  peace,  and  that  the  path 
between  them  was  fair  and  open." — Longs  Travels. 

"  That  Yon-non-de-yoh  asks  a  talk." 

Yon-non-de-yoh  was  the  name  given  by  the  Iroquois  to  the 
Governor-General  of  Canada.  Hennepin  says  it  signifies  "a  nne 
mountain." 


"  The  tree  of  Peace  between  to  set." 

"  The  tree  of  Peace  is  a  symbolic  metaphor  for  Peace  itself." — 
La  Hontan. 

STANZA    X. 
"  Along  the  Castle's  beaten  square." 

The  Indian  villages  are  called  Castles  by  the  old  writers. 
"  Their  Castles,"  says  Colden,  "are  generally  a  square  surround 
ed  with  palisadoes  without  any  bastions  or  outworks." 

"  The  dread,  renowned  Tcar-jis-ta-yo 
Extended  its  long  log-built  frame." 

This  is  an  Onondaga  word  signifying  "  The  House  of  the  Sa 
cred  Flame." 

"  Shrining  within  the  Sacred  Flame 
Which  burned  with  never-ceasing  glow." 

The  Onondaga  Canton  was  the  central  one  of  the  Five  Cantons 


NOTES.  291 

of  the  Iroquois.  This  Canton,  from  its  position,  was  the  place  of 
the  general  council  fire,  a  seat  of  government  of  the  nations.  The 
Castle  or  village  in  Onondaga  Hollow  was  the  particular  spot  of 
this  council  fire.  Here  it  was  kept,  according  to  the  histories  of 
the  period  "  continually  burning."  T*his  was  probably  a  meta 
phorical  term  to  show  the  perpetuity  of  the  League,  but  I  have 
chosen,  for  poetical  purposes,  to  consider  it  literal.  I  am  justified 
in  this  by  the  fact  that  amongst  the  Chippewayans  there  was  a 
fire  kept  perpetually  burning,  answering  somewhat  to  the  vestal 
fire  of  the  Romans,  and  also  that  the  Natches  nation  preserved  a 
continual  fire  in  their  sacred  temple. 

"  The  Feast  of  Union  every  year 
Renewing  by  the  radiance  clear 

The  tie  in  each  confederate's  heart." 

"  The  Feast  of  Union  is  a  term  used  by  the  Iroquois  to  signify 
the  renewing  of  the  alliance  between  the  five  Iroquois  nations. 
Every  year  the  five  Cantons  send  deputies  to  assist  at  the  Union 
Feast,  and  to  smoke  in  the  great  Calumet  or  pipe  of  the  five  na 
tions." — La  Hontan. 


STANZA    XV. 

"  Once  every  year  a  glowing  brand, 

Whose  sparkles  from  the  Flame  had  birth, 
Was  borne  by  To-ne-sah-hah's  hand 
To  every  On-on-dah-gah  hearth." 

It  was  a  striking  peculiarity  of  the  ancient  religious  system  of 
the  Iroquois  that  once  a  year  the  priesthood  supplied  the  people 
with  sacred  fire.  "  For  this  purpose,  a  set  time  was  announced 
for  the  ruling  Priest's  visit.  The  entire  village  was  apprised  of 
this  visit,  and  the  master  of  each  lodge  was  expected  to  be  prepared 
for  this  annual  rite.  Preliminary  to  the  visit,  his  lodge  fire  was 


292  NOTES. 

carefully  put  out,  and  ashes  scattered  about  it."— SchoolcrafVs 
Notes  on  the  Iroquois. 


"  the  brand  made  red 
By  the  whirled  wheel." 

The  mode,  as  I  was  informed  by  a  Cayuga  Sachem,  of  supplying 
fire,  was  by  means  of  a  wheel  turned  rapidly  round. 


STANZA    XVII. 
"  White  as  the  snow  the  lake-marsh  shed." 

The  salt  marshes  of  the  Onondaga  lake,  white  with  the  crystal 
lised  salt. 


STANZA    XVIII. 

*'  His  own  rich  pipe  was  hung  below, 
Its  bowl  and  stem  one  general  glow  ; 
With  thickly  pictured  tints  of  red, 
Telling  of  actions  stern  and  dread." 

The  Iroquois  warriors  covered  their  garments,  pipes,  bows,  and 
tomahawks  with  the  emblems  or  representations  of  their  deeds  on 
the  war-path.  These  were  stained  red,  that  being  the  favorite 
war  color. 

"  Broad  sinewed  snow-shoes ;  girdles  blue." 

The  snow-shoes  which  the  Savages  used,  were  calculated  to  bear 
their  weight  on  the  deep  snows  of  a  northern  winter,  when  chasing 
their  game. 

The  girdle,  or  waistcloth,  was  a  strip  of  cloth  or  skin,  twined 
around  their  loins,  and  used  by  the  warriors  both  on  their  war 
paths  and  in  their  villages. 

When  made  of  cloth  they  were  generally  of  a  blue  color. 


NOTES.  293 


"  Whilst  from  the  floor  a  sapling  sprung, 
With  human  scalps  upon  it  strung." 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Iroquois  to  plant  a  long  pole  in  their 
lodges,  and  string  upon  it  the  scalps  they  had  taken  in  the  war 
path. 


STANZA    XXIII, 

"  Whene'er  he  struck  the  battle-post, 
She  hung  delighted  on  his  boast." 

The  Iroquois  warrior  on  the  eve  of  an  expedition  always  danced 
his  war-dance  around  the  war-post,  boasting  of  his  exploits,  and 
striking  at  the  same  time  the  post  with  his  tomahawk  or  war-club. 


STANZA    XXVII, 

**  Upon  the  pleasant  outside  green, 
Two  shouting  bands,  the  gates  between, 
With  their  broad  rackets  sent  on  high 
The  ball  now  soaring  to  the  sky." 

Ball-playing  was  a  favorite  pastime  amongst  the  Iroquois. 

They  played  with  rackets  (which  resembled  the  tennis  rackets 
or  the  battledoors  of  the  whites,  only  larger),  fixing  two  sticks  up 
right  in  the  earth  several  inches  apart,  and  then  planting  similar 
ones  five  or  six  hundred  paces  opposite.  These  were  called  gates. 
The  art  of  the  play  consisted  in  keeping  the  ball  by  the  aid  of  the 
rackets  continually  in  the  air,  and  if  it  passed  or  fell  beyond  the 
gates,  the  party  or  band  whose  duty  it  was  to  keep  it  within,  lost 
the  play. 


294  NOTES. 


STANZA   XXVIII. 

"  Here  through  the  alleys  warriors  bore 
Short  scarlet  cloaks  their  shoulders  o'er." 

"  Both  the  young  and  the  old  hang  upon  their  backs,  in  a  careless 
way,  a  covering  of  hide  or  scarlet,  when  they  go  abroad  to  walk 
or  make  visits." — La  Hontan. 


STANZA    XXXVIII. 
i 

"  A  guttural  quick  '  yo-hah !'  awoke 

From  the  dark  ring." 

"  '  Yo-hah !'  denotes  approbation,  being  a  loud  shout  or  cry  con 
sisting  of  a  few  notes  pronounced  by  the  Indians,  in  the  nature  of 
our  huzzas." — Colderfs  History  of  the  Five  Nations. 


STANZA    XXXIX. 

««  Thence  to  the  Castle  roof  descended, 
And  bathed  in  radiance  pure  and  deep 
The  spires  and  dwellings  of  the  steep. 
Still  downward  crept  the  strengthening  rays ; 
The  lofty  crowded  roofs  below." 

*'  Quebec  is  divided  [into  the  upper  and  lower  city.  The  mer 
chants  live  in  the  latter  for  the  conveniency  of  the  harbor,  upon 
which  they  have  built  very  fine  houses  three  stories  high,  of  a  sort 
of  stone  that  is  hard  as  marble.  The  upper  or  high  city  is  full  as 
populous  and  well  adorned  as  the  lower.  Both  cities  are  com 
manded  by  a  castle  that  stands  upon  the  highest  ground.  The 
castle  is  the  residence  of  the  governors." — La  Hontan1  s  Description 
of  Quebec  in  1684. 


NOTES. 

•v- 
«•  And  Cataraqui  caught  the  glow." 

Cataraqui  was  the  Iroquois  name  for  the  River  St.  Lawrence. 

"  The  scattered  bastions — walls  of  stone 
With  bristling  lines  of  cannon  crowned." 

"  A  little  above  the  bastion  on  the  right,  they  have  made  a  bas 
tion  i^  the  rock.  There  is  a  little  square  fort  still  above  this  called 
the  citadel.  From  the  angle  of  the  citadel  they  have  made  an 
Orielle  of  a  bastion,  from  whence  they  have  made  a  curtain  at  right 
angles." — Charlevoix*  s  Description. 

"  As  the  place  (Quebec)  obtained  consequence,  and  became  an 
object  of  desire  to  other  and  far  more  powerful  enemies  than  the 
native  savages,  it  was  in  the  last  mentioned  year  (1691)  fortified 
in  a  more  regular  manner  by  works  according  to  the  rules  of  Art, 
built  of  stone,  which  from  that  period  have  been  attended  to." — 
Bouchette's  Canada, 

"  The  basin  glowed  in  splendid  dyes." 

"  The  wide  part  of  the  river  immediately  below  Quebec  is  called 
the  basin." — Weld's  Travels  in  Canada. 

'*  And  chequered  tints  of  light  and  shade 
The  banks  of  Orleans'  Isle  displayed." 

"The  Island  of  Orleans  is  seven  leagues  in  length,  and  three  in 
breadth.  It  is  surrounded  with  plantations  that  produce  all  sorts 
of  grain." — La  Hontan. 

STANZA    XL. 

"  A  brigantine  her  canvas  spread, 
And  as  her  sailor-songs  outbroke 
Down  toward  the  southern  channel  sped.'' 

"  A  brigantine  is  a  small  vessel  with  one  deck,  built  of  light 


296  NOTES. 

wood,  which  plies  both  with  oars  and  sails.     It  is  equally  sharp 
at  bow  and  poop,  and  is  built  for  a  quick  sailer. — La  Hontan. 

"  At  Quebec  the  river  divides  itself  into  two  branches.  The 
ships  sail  through  the  South  Channel,  for  the  North  Channel  is  so 
foul  with  shelves  and  rocks,  that  the  small  boats  can  only  pass  that 
way." — La  Hontan. 

"  From  Skannadario's  boundless  blue."  • 

"  Skannadario  was  the  Iroquois  name  for  Lake  Ontario,  meaning 
4  a  very  pretty  lake.'  " — See  Hennepin. 

"  And  a  batteau  forth  slowly  slipped 
Its  little  wooden  anchors  tripped, 
The  boatmen  at  their  poles  low  bending." 

The  batteau  was  a  long  flat  boat  sharp  at  both  ends,  used  to 
transport  heavy  articles  along  the  rivers  and  shores  of  the  lakes. 
They  were  propelled  by  long  poles,  against  which  the  boatmen 
placed  their  shoulders  and  pushed  with  all  their  strength.  In 
smooth  deep  places  they  used  oars,  and  in  the  broad  breezy  reaches 
hoisted  a  sail. 

"  About  midnight  we  weighed  our  little  wooden  anchors,  and  one 
half  the  men  rowed,  whilst  the  others  were  at  rest.1' — La  Hontan. 


STANZA    XLI. 

"  With  pike  and  corslet,  grim  and  scarred, 
And  measured  step,  on  strode  a  guard." 

Frontenac  had  a  body  of  soldiers  who  were  immediately  armed 
around  his  person,  called  his  "  guards."  "  Count  Frontenac,"  says 
Hennepin,  "  gave  me  two  of  his  guards,  who  understood  very  well 
how  to  manage  a  canoe,  to  carry  me  to  Quebec."  La  Hontan  also 
mentions  them. 


NOTES.  297 

"  Coureurs  de  bois  loud  chattering  went, 
Beneath  their  packs  of  peltry  bent." 

» 

"  Coureurs  de  Bois,  i.  e.  Forest  Rangers,  are  French  or  Cana- 
dese  ;  so  called  from  employing  their  whole  life  in  the  rough  exer 
cise  of  transporting  merchandise  goods  to  the  lakes  of  Canada,  and 
to  all  the  other  nations  of  the  Continent  in  order  to  trade  with  the 
savages."  They  exchanged  their  goods  for  beaver  skins,  and  ran 
in  canoes  hundreds  of  leagues  up  the  rivers  and  lakes  of  the  coun 
try. — See  La  Hontan. 

"  The  half-blood  scout,  with  footstep  light, 
Passed,  glancing  round  his  rapid  sight." 

Scouts  were  much  employed  by  the  French  at  that  period  to 
track  the  forest.  They  were  generally  half-breeds. 

"  And  rough  batteaumen,  grouped  in  bands." 

The  batteaumen  constituted,  as  well  as  the  Coureurs  de  Bois,  a 
distinct  class  by  themselves.  They  associated  together,  and  were 
rude  in  speech  and  manner. 


STANZA    XLII. 

"  *  St.  Francis  !  keep  it  far  away,' 
Exclaimed  a  passing  Recollet." 

The  Recollets  were  monks  of  the  order  of  St.  Francis.  They 
were  the  first  Priests  that  settled  in  Canada,  and  were  employed  as 
Missionaries  generally  amongst  the  Indians. — See  Hennepin,  who 
belonged  himself  to  the  Order. 

**  A  rough  Carignan  settler  said." 

"  The  Carignan  Salieres  were  a  French  regiment  which  on  its  re 
turn  from  Hungary,  was  sent  to  Canada  to  make  war  against  the 


298  NOTES. 

Iroquois,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  regiment,  after  the  war,  re 
mained  in  the  country  and  became  settlers." — Charlevoix'sNouvelle 
France.  ^ 

The  descendants  of  this  regiment  were  ever  afterwards,  and  are 

to  this  day,  called  Carignans. 
i 
"  Hush,  Merle,  the  Calumet  behold  !" 

"  The  savages  make  use  of  the  Calumet  for  negotiations,  and 
state  affairs  j  for  when  they  have  a  Calumet  in  their  hand  they  go 
where  they  will  in  safety." — LaHontan. 

"  One  with  the  Calumet  may  venture  amongst  his  enemies. — 
Marquette. 

It  was,  in  fact,  the  Indian's  flag  of  truce. 

"  Passed  crouching  hut  and  building  grey." 

Quebec  in  1696  (the  time  of  the  greater  portion  of  our  tale)  con 
sisted  of  houses  built  of  grey  stone,  interspersed  with  the  sheds 
and  cabins  of  the  fur-traders,  hunters,  &c.  &c. 


STANZA    XLIII. 

"  On  came  the  Atotarho's  tread, 

Leading  the  file  of  his  tawny  band." 

The  Indians  always  march  in  single  file,  so  as  to  tread  in  each 
other's  footprint,  and  thereby  conceal  their  numbers,  and  also  their 
trail  as  much  as  possible. 

"  Whilst  high  he  lifted  in  his  hand 
That  sign  of  peace,  the  Calumet, 
So  sacred  to  the  Indian  soul, 
With  its  stem  of  reed,  and  its  dark  red  bowl, 

Flaunting  with  feathers,  white,  yellow,  and  green." 

"  I  must  here  speak  of  the  Calumet,  the  most  mysterious  thing 


NOTES.  299 

in  the  world.  The  sceptres  of  our  kings  are  not  so  much  respect 
ed,  for  the  savages  have  such  a  deference  for  this  pipe  that  we  may 
call  it  the  god  of  peace  and  war,  and  the  arbiter  of  life  and  death. 
They  adorn  it  with  feathers  of  several  colors." — Marquette. 

u  The  head  is  finely  polished;  and  the  quill,  which  is  commonly 
two  feet  and  a  half  long,  is  made  of  a  pretty  strong  reed.  They 
tie  to  it  two  wings  of  the  most  curious  birds  they  find." — Hennepin. 

"  The  red  Calumets  are  most  esteemed.  It  is  trimmed  with 
white,  yellow,  and  green  feathers,  and  has  the  same  effect  amongst 
the  savages  that  the  flag  of  friendship  has  with  us  j  for  to  violate 
the  rights  of  this  venerable  pipe  is  amongst  them  a  flaming  crime." 
— La  Hontan. 

The  Calumet  is  a  large  smoking-pipe  made  of-marble,  most  com 
monly  of  dark  red." — Golden. 


STANZA    XLIV. 
**  A  short  fusee  his  shoulders  crossed." 

"Short  and  light  fusees  are  in  use  amongst  the  savages." — La 
Hontan. 

"  His  head  the  bristling  scalp-lock  bore." 

"The  Indian  warrior  shaves  his  head,  with  the  exception  of  a 
long  lock  upon  the  crown,  to  facilitate  the  taking  the  scalp,  should 
he  fall  into  the  power  of  his  enemy. 

"  A  heron  plume  of  snow  hung  o'er, 
(Memorial  of  that  bird  that  swept 

Its  way  to  Hah-yoh-wont-hah  dread, 
And  whose  pure  plumage  long  was  kept 
To  deck  each  bravest  warrior's  head.") 

Hah-yoh-wont-hah  was  one  of  the  three  projectors  and  makers 
of  the  League,  or  Confederation,  of  the  Iroquois.  The  other  two 


300  NOTES. 

were  Atolarho  and  To-gan-a-we-tah.  The  three  were  considered 
of  preternatural  origin,  and  possessed  of  preternatural  qualities. 
Hah-yoh-wont-hah,  however,  had  dwelt  long  amongst  them, 
choosing  the  Onondagas  for  his  nation,  and  Onondaga  Lake  for  his 
residence.  Here  he  married  and  had  a  daughter,  who  was  regarded 
almost  as  divine.  He  instructed  his  people  in  the  arts  of  hunting, 
agriculture,  and  war,  was  deeply  venerated,  and  at  last  proposed, 
with  the  two  others,  the  Alliance.  Whilst  standing  in  the  midst 
of  the  assemblage  of  the  Five  Nations  which  was  congregated  on 
the  shores  of  the  lake  to  join  in  the  League,  with  his  daughter  by 
his  side,  a  rushing  sound  was  heard,  and  a  great  white  bird  swoop 
ed  from  the  heavens  and  fell  at  the  side  of  Han-yoh-wont-hah, 
crushing  his  daughter  in  its  fall.  The  warriors  around  him  rushed 
to  pluck  the  plumes  from  the  wings  of  the  bird  to  place  by  their 
scalp- locks,  and  the  feathers  were  preserved  afterwards  to  adorn 
the  heads  of  the  most  valiant  warriors  of  the  Confederacy.  When 
these  feathers  became  destroyed  the  plumes  of  the  white  heron 
supplied  their  places.  In  process  of  time,  the  Atotarho  alone  ac 
quired  the  right  to  wear  the  white  heron  plume,  in  his  capacity  of 
head  Sachem,  as  well  as  head  War-chief  of  the  Confederacy. 

The  name  of  this  bird  was  "  Sah-dah-ga-ah"  in  Seneca,  and 
Hah-googhs"  in  Onondaga.  The  meaning  in  both  dialects  is  "the 
bird  of  the  clouds." 

"  Behind,  his  mat  hung,  richly  dyed." 

The  Iroquois  warrior  always  hung  his  mat,  stained  with  rich 
colors,  at  his  back  when  equipped  fully  for  his  "  talks,"  or 
ceremonial  visits  to  the  high  personages  of  the  white  race. 

"  And  dangling  loosely  at  his  side, 

His  pouch  of  rabbit  skin  was  seen." 

The  pouch  held  the  tobacco  for  his  pipe.  It  was  generally  made 
of  the  whole  skin  of  some  smal^ animal — a  rabbit,  fox,  or  the 
largest  species  of  squirrel. 


NOTES.  301 

"  His  hatchet  o'er  his  mat  was  slung, 
Whilst  his  long  knife  before  him  hung." 

The  hatchet  or  tomahawk,  was  carried  slung  at  the  back,  with 
the  handle  up  ready  for  the  hand,  and  the  scalping-knife,  for  the 
same  reason,  was  placed  in  the  wampum  belt  before. 

STANZA    XLV. 
"  «  Hai !  hai !'  they  sounded  oft  and  loud." 

The  cry  "  Hai !  hai !"  in  the  Iroquois  language  is  the  sign  of 
peace.  "  There  was  an  Iroquese  captain,"  says  Hennepin,  "  who, 
one  day  wanting  his  bowl,  entered  into  the  town  of  Montreal,  in 
Canada,  crying  '  Hai  !  hai !'  which,  in  their  language,  is  the  sign 
of  peace;  he  was  received  with  many  caresses  of  kindness." 

<:  Thus  down  St.  Louis'  Street,  that  led 
To  the  Place  d'Armes,  all  slowly  sped." 

The  long  street  that  led  from  the  walls  of  Quebec  to  the  square 
or  Place  d'Armes,  was  called  in  Frontenac's  time,  as  it  still  is,  St. 
Louis-street. 

STANZA    XLVIII. 
"  What  doth  my  Canada  father  say  ?" 

The  Governor- General  was  styled  by  the  Iroquois  "  Canada 
father,"  as  well  as  Yon-non-de-yoh. 

STANZA    XLIX. 
"  Why  should  the  Ongue  Honwee  host." 

"  The  Five  Nations  (or  Iroquois)  think  themselves  superior  to 
the  rest  of  mankind,  and  call  themselves  '  Ongue  Honwee,1  that  is, 
men  surpassing  all  others." — Golden. 
15 


302  NOTES. 

"  Why  should  our  pathway  with  a  cloud 
The  brave  Ho-de-no-sonne  shroud  !" 

The  confederated  nations,  although  called  Iroquois  by  the 
French,  never  adopted  the  name.  The  name  they  bore  among 
themselves  was  the  Ho-de-no-sonne,  meaning,  "  the  United  People," 
or  "  the  People  of  the  Long  House."  They  took  this  name  after 
they  had  formed  themselves  into  the  League,  so  often  alluded  ta. 
The  term  Ongue  Honwee  was  a  phrase,  not  a  name. 

"  From  distant  Missillimakinak." 

"  The  Coureurs  de  Bois  have  a  small  settlement  at  Missillimaki 
nak." — La  Hontan. 

"  We'll  smoke  the  Calumet  together." 

Smoking  the  Calumet  together  is,  with  the  Indians,  a  sure  sign 
of  friendship. 

"  This  belt  preserves  my  words." 

"  This  colier  (belt  of  wampum)  confirms  or  contains  my  words." 
This  expression  frequently  occurs  in  the  speeches  of  La  Barre  and 
Garangula,  in  their  celebrated  interview,  as  described  by  La  Hontan. 
"Without  the  intervention  of  these  coliers,"  says  La  Hontan, 
"  there  is  no  business  to  be  negotiated  with  the  savages  ;  for,  be 
ing  altogether  unacquainted  with  writing,  they  make  use  of  them 
for  contracts  and  obligations.  In  regard  that  every  colier  has  its 
peculiar  mark,  they  learn  from  the  old  persons  the  circumstances 
of  the  time  and  place  in  which  they  were  delivered." 

"  By  deeds  or  singing-birds." 
Singing-birds  mean,  figuratively,  tale  bearers. 

"  Fusees,  to  bring  the  fleet  moose  low  ; 
Rackets,  to  hunt  him  in  the  snow." 

Fusees  were  most  generally  amongst  the  gifts  to  the  Indians. 
The  snow-shoes  were  called,  as  well  as  the  ball-clubs,  rackets  by 


NOTES.  303 

the  French,  and  were  used  by  the  savages  to  hunt  the  moose  and 
deer  in  the  deep  drifts  of  the  winter  forests. 


STANZA    L. 

"When,  in  his  snowy-winged  canoe, 
First  Walking  Thunder  crept  to  view." 

Walking  Thunder  was  the  name  given  to  Champlain,  by  the  Iro- 
quois,  on  account  of  the  fire-arms  he  carried  when  they  first  came 
in  contact  with  him. 

"  The  Adirondack  dogs  the  knife 
Against  my  people  held  in  strife, 
Red  ever  with  their  blood." 

Champlain,  on  his  first  arrival  in  Canada,  found  the  Adirondacks 
and  Iroquois  at  war ;  the  former  had  driven  the  latter  from  their 
hunting-grounds,  and  were  generally  successful  in  their  encounters 
with  them. 

"  Beside  that  broad  and  lovely  lake, 

Where  dwells  the  Prophet  of  the  winds." 

11  There  is  a  rock  in  this  lake  (Corlear's  Lake,  or  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  as  it  is  now  called),  on  which  the  waves  dash  and  fly  up  to 
a  great  height  when  the  wind'  blows  hard.  The  Indians  believe 
that  an  old  Indian  lives  under  this  rock,  who  has  the  power  of  the 
winds  5  and,  therefore,  as  they  pass  it  in  their  voyages  over,  they 
always  throw  a  pipe  or  some  other  small  present  to  the  old  Indian, 
and  pray  a  favorable  wind." — Golden. 

"  Herding  with  those  base  dogs,  the  fires 
Of  Walking  Thunder  fiercely  flashed 
Against  the  bosoms  of  our  sires, 

And  to  the  earth  their  bravest  dashed, 
Sudden,  as  when  the  lightning's  bound 
Cleaves  the  proud  hemlock  to  the  ground." 

41  Monsieur  Champlain,  the  first  Governor  of  Canada,  joined  the 


304  NOTES. 

• 
Adirondacks  in  an  expedition  against  the  Five  Nations.     They  met 

a  party  of  two  hundred  men  of  the  Five  Nations  in  Corlear's  Lake, 
which  the  French  on  this  occasion  called  by  Monsieur  Champlain's 
name,  and  both  sides  went  ashore  to  prepare  for  battle,  which 
proved  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  Five  Nations.  The  French  be 
gan  to  join  battle ;  and  their  fire-arms  surprised  the  Five  Nations 
so  much  that  they  were  immediately  put  into  confusion,  for  before 
that  time  they  had  never  seen  such  weapons." — Golden. 

"  Warriors  who  only  bowed  before 
To  Hah-wen-ne-yo." 

Hah-wen-ne-yo  is  the  name  of  the  Iroquois  Creator,  or  Great 
Spirit. 

STANZA    LI. 

"  But  the  wise  Charistooni  came, 
And  gave  the  dust  where  slept  the  flame 
To  our  awed  sires." 

"  Charistooni,  or  the  Iron  Workers.  This  was  the  name  the 
Iroquois  gave  the  Dutch,  according  to  the  Rev.  J.  Megapolensis, 
the  first  clergyman  in  Rensselaerwyck." — See  Monitors  History 
of  New  Netherland. 

It  was  from  the  Dutch  that  the  Iroquois  first  received  fire-arms, 
from  which  time  they  began  their  conquests. 

STANZA   LII. 

"  Then  the  good  Charistooni  placed 
The  chain  in  Corlear's  friendly  hands/' 

After  the  English  conquered  the  Dutch  in  1664,  the  latter  trans 
ferred  the  good-will  of  the  Iroquois  to  the  former.  On  the  24th  of 
September  in  that  year,  the  first  Convention  was  held  between  the 
English  and  the  Iroquois,  and  a  treaty  of  peace  entered  into  at 
Albany, 


NOTES.  305 

"It  was  in  honor  of  Corlear,  a  Dutchman,  who  was  a  great  fa 
vorite  with  the  Indians,  that  the  Governors  of  New  York  were 
named  Corlear  by  the  Iroquois." — See  Smith's  History  of  New  York. 

This  name  was  soon  extended  by  them  to  the  English  generally. 

Corlear  was  drowned  whilst  crossing  the  lake,  now  known  as 
Lake  Champlain.  The  Indians  said,  according  to  Golden,  that  he 
was  drowned  for  not  only  disregarding  to  make  the  customary 
present  to  the  old  Indian  of  the  rock  (see  note  to  Stanza  L.),  but 
absolutely  mocking  him."  The  lake  is,  however,  to  the  present 
time  called  by  his  name  by  the  Iroquois. 

"  Have  dug  the  hatchet  from  the  ground." 

Digging  the  hatchet  from  the  ground  means,  figuratively,  ac 
cording  to  Indian  ideas,  to  declare  war. 

"  And,  turning,  Thurenserah  throws 
His  hatchet,  with  a  look  tbat  glows 
In  glaring  fury,  at  his  foes." 

"  Their  (the  Iroquois)  hatchet,  in  war  time,  is  slung  in  their 
girdle  behind  them;  and  besides  what  use  they  make  of  this  wea 
pon  in  their  hand,  they  have  a  dexterous  way  of  throwing  it,  which 
I  have  seen  them  practise  in  their  exercises,  by  throwing  it  into  a 
tree.  They  have,  in  this  way,  the  art  of  directing  and  regulating 
the  motion,  so  that  though  the  hatchet  turns  round  as  it  flies,  the 
edge  always  sticks  in  the  tree,  and  near  the  place  at  which  they 
aim  it."— Golden. 


CANTO  THIRD. 

STANZA    III. 

"  And  now  round  flame  and  war-post  red." 

A  large  fire  is  always  kindled  whenever  the  war-dance  is  to  be 
danced,  and  beside  it  a  post  is  planted  painted  red,  and  called  the 


306  NOTES. 

war-post ;  and  around  these  two  objects  the  Iroquois  warriors  per 
form  the  ceremony. 

STANZA  v. 
*'  A  moose,  slow  grazing,  went." 

The  name  moose  is  a  corruption  of  the  Indian  appellation 
"  musee  or  wood-eater." 

STANZA  xx. 

"  Those  maringouins  !  swarm  on  swarm 
Thronged  all  the  night  about  my  form  !" 

Gnats  found  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  in  great  numbers. 
La  Hontan  mentions  them  as  objects  of  great  annoyance,  and  so 
does  Kalm.  "The  maringouins,"  says  La  Hontan,  which  we  call 
midges,  are  insufferably  troublesome  in  all  the  countries  of  Canada. 
We  were  haunted  with  such  clouds  of  them  that  we  thought  to  be 
eat  up." 

STANZA    XXXI. 
" '  The  Griffin,'  says  one,  '  was  strong  and  fleet.'  " 

This  was  the  name,  according  to  Hennepin,  of  the  first  vessel  of 
civilized  man  that  navigated  the  great  lakes.  It  was  fitted  out  for 
a  voyage  of  discovery  under  the  command  of  the  celebrated  La 
Salle  ;  Father  Hennepin  (who  was  one  of  the  number  that  em 
barked  with  him)  says,  "  The  ship  was  called  the  Griffin,  alluding 
to  the  Arms  of  Count  Frontenac." 


CANTO  FOURTH. 

STANZA    I. 

"  The  sun-fired  calumet  he  bore, 
Sending  its  light  smoke-offering  o'er." 

In  the  Iroquois  dances  of  thanksgiving  to  Hah-wen-ne-yo,  it 


NOTES.  307 

was  customary  for  the  presiding  priest  to  present  him,  according  to 
La  Hontan,  with  pipes  of  tobacco  lighted  at  the  sun. 

STANZA    II. 

"  Until  the  sunset's  dipping  light, 

When  Thurenserah,  at  the  head 
Of  all  his  Braves,  would,  in  its  sight, 
The  dance  of  Hah-wen-ne-yo  tread." 

"  When  the  sun  is  almost  down,  the  warriors  march  out  of  the 
village  to  dance  the  dance  of  the  Great  Spirit." — La  Hontan. 

STANZA   XVI. 

"  Along  the  Castle's  gallery, 
Over  the  verge  of  the  rock  outspread, 
Whence  the  vision  roamed  far  and  free." 

"  A  fine  gallery  with  a  balcony  runs  the  whole  length  of  the 
Castle.  It  commands  the  road  (harbor),  and  the  lower  city  appears 
under  your  feet." — Charlevoix. 

"  Whilst  on  the  basin's  lake-like  breast, 
Was  the  long  spread  island  in  lustre  dressed." 

"  The  wide  part  of  the  river  immediately  below  Quebec  is  called 
the  basin." — Weld's  Travels  in  Canada. 

"  Between  the  city  and  the  Isle  of  Orleans  there  i«  a  basin  a  full 
league  in  extent  every  way,  into  which  the  river  St.  Charles  uiS- 
charges  itself." — Charlevoix. 

STANZA    XIX. 

"  Great  as  those  casques  the  forms  of  stone 
Displayed — forms  terrible,  unknown." 

There  is  a  tradition  amongst  the  Iroquois  that  their  ancestors 
were  invaded  a  long  while  ago  by  giants  covered  with  garments 
made  of  stone.  These  invaders  were  called  the  Ot-ne-yar-he,  or 


308  NOTEb. 

the  Stonish  Giants.  They  were  very  fierce  and  terrible,  and  more 
over  cannibals,  devouring  men,  women,  and  children,  and  depopu 
lating  in  this  way  whole  villages.  Against  their  stone  armor,  the 
arrows  of  the  Iroquois  rattled  harmlessly  and  in  vain.  At  length 
Hah-wen-ne-yo  took  pity  upon  their  distress,  and,  assuming  the 
shape  of  one  of  these  giants,  pretended  to  lead  them  in  search  of 
the  Iroquois,  and  at  night  induced  them  to  lie  down  together  in  a 
hollow.  Ascending  then  an  eminence,  he  rolled  great  rocks  upon 
them,  and  buried  them  underneath. 


STANZA    XXVI. 

"  From  her  dark  hair  a  feather  sprung, 
Behind,  the  usual  roller  hung." 

The  hair  of  the  Iroquois  women  "  is  rolled  up  behind  with  a  sort 
of  ribbon,"  says  La  Hontan,  "  and  that  roller  hangs  down  to  their 
girdle.'1 


STANZA    XXVIII. 
"  But  ere  black  Hah-no-gah-ate-geh." 

This  is  the  Evil  Spirit  of  the  Iroquois.  He  is  the  brother  of 
Hah-wen-ne-yo  the  Go'bd  Spirit. 

<{  Ere  Kah-qua  brings  another  day." 

Kah-qua  means  the  sun.  The  Iroquois  personify  almost  every 
object  in  Nature  of  importance,  such  as  the  sun,  moon  and  stars, 
mountains,  &c. 

STANZA    XXXI. 

"  The  battery's  frowning  lines  she  saw." 

"  By  the  side  of  the  gallery  of  the  Castle  there  is  a  battery  of 
twenty-five  pieces  of  cannon.' — Charlevoix. 


NOTES.  309 

STANZA    XXXIII. 

"  Instant  a  bail  above  him  screeched." 

A  cannon-ball  in  passing  through  the  air  gives  a  keen  screeching 
sound. 


CANTO  FIFTH. 

STANZA    II. 
"  The  Bell-rock— 

Sending  o'er  isle  and  wave  its  swell." 

Upon  the  Island  of  La  Cloche  in  Lake  Huron,  there  is  a  rock, 
which,  when  struck,  yields  a  metallic  sound  like  the  toll  of  a  bell. 

The  Indians  look  upon  the  spot  as  subject  to  supernatural  in 
fluences,  and  have  a  great  many  superstitions  and  traditions  con 
nected  with  the  rock. 

STANZA    VI. 

"  Take  the  war-wampum  !  my  command 
Bear,  that  the  hatchet  through  the  land 
Unburied  be  against  my  foe  !" 

The  wampum  belt  is  a  sign  of  war  as  well  as  of  peace,  and  is 
sent  by  means  of  a  runner  amongst  those  who  are  to  be  notified  of 
the  expected  hostilities,  so  as  to  rouse  them  against  the  common 
enemy.  The  sight  of  this  mute  messenger  is  well  understood. 

It  is  also  sent  to  the  tribes  against  whom  the  hostilities  are  to  be 
directed,  to  inform  them.  The  unburying  the  hatchet  is,  as  before 
explained,  a  figurative  expression  denoting  a  declaration  of  war. 

STANZA   XII. 
"  in  the  trail 


Between  us  sharp  thick  briers  prevail." 
"  There  are  briers  in  the  trail  between  us,"  is  the  metaphorical 


310  NOTES. 

expression  of  the  savages  to  signify  that  difficulty  and  trouble  are 
between  two  tribes. 

STANZA    XV. 
"  His  arquebuse  rusting  for  years  in  its  nook." 

The  arquebuse  was  a  clumsy  hand-gun,  the  pioneer  of  our  mus 
ket,  and  was  used  in  the  wars  of  that  period. 

STANZA    XVI. 

"  The  summer  sun  was  sinking  bright 
Behind  the  woods  of  Isle  Perrot ; 
Back  Lake  St.  Louis  gleamed  the  light 
In  rich  and  mingled  glow." 

Isle  Perrot  is  situated  in  the  upper  or  western  part  of  Lake  St. 
Louis,  where  the  Ottawa  river  empties  into  the  lake.  The  lake 
itself  stretches  its  expanse  to  the  westward  of  Lachine,  which  is 
situated  upon  a  small  bay  of  the  former. 

"  The  slanting  radiance  at  Lachine 
Shone  on  an  animated  scene." 

Lachine  was  the  place  where  Frontenac  assembled  his  army,  and 
whence  he  embarked  on  his  expedition  against  the  Iroquois.— See 
the  Histories  of  the  period. 

STANZA    XVIII. 

"  Beneath  were  the  griffins  of  Frontenac  gleaming 
In  gold,  on  the  breast  of  a  pennon  outstreaming." 

"The  arms  of  Count  Frontenac  have  two  Griffins  for  sup 
porters." — Hennepin. 

STANZA   XIX. 

"  The  sunset  tints  from  the  lake  withdrew, 
And  now  on  the  broad  expanse  were  seen, 


NOTES.  311 

Here  rough  Ottawa's  tawny  hue, 
There  Cataraqui's  splendid  green." 

This  is  a  remarkable  sight.  The  Ottawa  dashes  into  the  St. 
Lawrence  with  such  force  and  volume  that  the  discoloration  of  its 
waters  is  seen  for  a  great  distance,  in  contradistinction  to  the 
pure  beautiful  green  of  the  river  which  receives  it.  It  seems  as  if 
the  latter  shrank  from  the  contact,  to  protect  its  purity  as  long  as 
possible  from  the  pollution  of  the  stranger. 

STANZA    XXI. 
"  De  Nonville  sought 
Our  Seneca  foemen  !" 

Several  years  previous  to  Frontenac's  expedition  De  Nonville, 
the  immediate  predecessor  of  the  former,  made  a  descent  upon  the 
Iroquois,  which  proved  disastrous  to  him. 


CANTO  SIXTH. 

STANZA    I. 
'*  Along  an  Indian  trail,  that  traced 

Its  deep  seam  through  these  forests  vast." 

The  trails  of  the  Iroquois,  in  the  time  of  their  power,  wound  in 
every  direction  of  their  Long  House,  and,  trodden  for  centuries, 
were  worn  deeply  in  the  earth.  In  some  places  they  were  worn 
three  or  four  feet  deep,  and  were  quite  narrow.  Dr.  Wilson,  a 
Cayuga  Chief,  told  me  that  he  had  seen  parts  of  these  trails  sunk 
knee-deep  in  the  ground,  with  large  trees  growing  in  them. 

STANZA    XV. 

"  At  length  a  warrior  rose,  his  breast 
Bearing  a  snake  tattooed,  its  crest 
And  forked  tongue  ready." 

The  Iroquois  warriors  were  in  the  habit  of  tattooing  upon  their 


312  NOTES. 

skin  their  individual  totem,  which  was  generally  the  sign  of  some 
beast,  bird  or  reptile.  This  was  in  addition  to  the  totem  of  their 
clan  or  family. 


STANZA    XIX. 

"LIn  time  of  snows  our  old  men  tell 
How  by  our  sires  the  Kah-kwahs  fell." 

The  Kah-kwahs  were  an  Indian  nation  residing  on  the  banks  of 
Buffalo  Creek,  which  was  called  by  the  Iroquois  "  Do-o-se-o- 
wah,"  or  the  "  place  of  basswoods."  They  were  defeated  in  a 
great  battle  near  where  their  chief  village  was  situated,  by  the 
Senecas,  who  took  possession  of  the  locality,  reared  their  own  vil 
lage  upon  it,  and  made  it  the  seat  of  their  government  or  council 
fire.  "  It  is  a  site,"  says  Schoolcraft,  "  around  which  the  Senecas 
have  clung  as  if  it  marked  an  era  in  their  national  history." 

"  De-o-se-o-wah's  huts  within." 
The  Senecas  called  their  village  mentioned,  De-o-se-o-wah. 

STANZA    XXI. 

"  Quick  it  spread, 
'Till  every  quarter  pealed  it  out." 

The  Iroquois  villages  were  divided  into  quarters  or  districts. 

STANZA    XXII. 

"Makes  clustered  apple-orchards  bright." 

Remains  of  the  apple-orchards  of  the  Cayugas  are  still  seen  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  village  of  Aurora,  which  itself  occupies 
the  site  of  the  chief  village  of  the  nation,  which  was  called  Ko-lah- 
ne-kah.  The  trees  are  mossy,  and  gnarled,  and  not  inapt  emblems 
of  the  race  whose  fathers  planted  and  reared  them. 


NOTES.  313 

STANZA    XLVIII. 

"  Earth,  we  thank  thee  !  thy  great  frame 
Bears  the  stone  from  whence  we  came." 

The  Oneidas  deduce  their  origin  from  a  stone.  They  call  them 
selves  Oneota-aug,  people  sprung  from  a  stone. 

"  This  stone,"  says  Schoolcraft  in  his  Notes  on  the  Iroquois,  "  is 
in  Stockbridge,  Madison  County,  New  York.  It  lies  on  a  very 
commanding  eminence,  from  which  the  entire  Oneida  Creek  valley, 
as  far  as  the  Oneida  Lake,  can  he  seen  in  a  clear  atmosphere. 
There,  in  seclusion  from  their  enemies,  the  tribe  expanded  and 
grew  in  numbers.  Time  and  usage  rendered  the  object  sacred,  and 
as  they  expanded  into  nationality  and  power  while  located  around 
it,  their  sages  asserted  with  metaphorical  truth  that  they  sprung 
from  this  rock. 

"  It  is  a  large  but  not  an  enormous  boulder  of  syenite  of  the  er 
ratic  block  groupe,  and  consequently,  geologically  foreign  to  the 
location.  There  are  no  rocks  of  this  species  in  situ,  I  believe, 
nearer  to  it  than  the  Kayaderosseras,  or  the  Adirondack  moun 
tains." 

STANZA    LVIII. 
"Men  of  blood!" 

The  Mohawks  were  an  exceedingly  fierce  and  warlike  nation. 
They  were  a  terror  to  their  enemies  for  a  great  distance,  and  were 
known  by  the  appellation  of  "  men  of  blood."  This  title  was  a 
source  of  great  pride  to  them. 

"Away!  stern  Bears!" 

The  word  "  Mohawk"  is  supposed  to  be  derived  from  the  Mohe- 
gan  word  "  Muk-wa,"  a  bear. 

The  Mohawk  Chiefs,  in  their  speech  at  Albany,  in  1690,  sym 
pathising  with  the  whites  on  the  burning  of  Schenectady,  said,  ac 
cording  to  Colden,  "  We  are  all  of  the  race  of  the  bear ;  and  a  bear, 


314  NOTES. 

you  know,  never  yields  while  one  drop  of  blood  is  left.     We  must 
all  be  bears  !'? 


CANTO  SEVENTH. 

STANZA    I. 

"  The  beavers  plunged  within  each  mud-built  hut, 
As  through  their  dam  of  trees  a  path  was  cut." 

11  As  we  came  down  the  river  (Wood  Creek)  the  dykes,  formed 
of  branches  and  clay,  which  the  beavers  had  made  in  it,  produced 
new  difficulties.  We  could  not  get  forward  with  the  boat  till  we 
had  cut  through  them." — Rains'  Travels  in  North  America. 

"  Ha  !  look,  proud  Frontenac  !  upon  yon  tree 
The  haughty  savage  still  casts  scorn  at  thee  ! 
Drawn  on  its  naked  wood  in  tints  of  red, 
Thou,  with  the  warriors  of  thy  host,  art  spread  ; 
Whilst  at  the  roots  the  bundled  rushes  show 
The  stern  defiance  of  thy  tawny  foe  !" 

"  The  army  moved  slowly  along  the  Oswego  river.  They  found 
a  tree  as  they  passed  along,  on  which  the  Indians  had,  in  their 
manner,  painted  the  French  army,  and  had  laid  by  it  two  bundles 
of  cut  rushes.  This  was  a  defiance  in  the  Indian  manner,  and  to 
tell  them  by  the  number  of  the  rushes  that  fourteen  hundred  and 
thirty-four  men  would  meet  them. — Golden. 

STANZA    II. 

"  Broader  gleamings  upon  them  break, 
Through  the  thick  forest—'  the  lake,  the  lake  !'  " 

This  was  Onondaga  Lake,  through  which  Frontenac  passed 
with  his  flotilla,  and  encamped  upon  its  borders  near  where  the 
Onondaga  Creek  joins  the  lake,  and  close  to  the  celebrated  salt 
licks. 


NOTES.  315 

"  Along  the  margin,  a  tract  of  white 
Glitters  like  silver  beneath  the  light ; 
A  shout  went  up— were  the  old  dreams  true  1 
Was  treasure  there  flashing  its  dazzling  hue  V* 

"About  this  time  (1669)  a  party  of  Spaniards,  consisting  of 
twenty-three  persons,  arrived  at  the  village,  having  for  guides  some 
of  the  Iroquois,  who  had  been  taken  captives  by  some  of  the 
southern  tribes.  They  had  been  informed  that  there  was  a  lake 
to  the  north  whose  bottom  was  covered  with  a  substance  shining 
and  white,  which  they  took  from  the  Indian's  description  to  be  sil 
ver.  Having  arrived  at  Onondaga  Lake  and  the  French  village' 
and  rinding  no  silver,  they  seemed  bent  on  a  quarrel  with  the 
French,  whom  they  charged  with  having  bribed  the  Indians,  so 
that  they  would  not  tell  them  where  the  silver  might  be  found." — 
De  Witt  Clinton's  Memoir  on  the  Antiquities  of  Western  New  York. 

STANZA    III. 
"  One  blaze  of  silver  Gar-noh-gwe-yoh  glows." 

This  is  the  Onondaga  name  for  the  Onondaga  Lake,  according 
to  a  Sachem  of  the  same  nation,  known  to  the  whites  as  Colonel 
Silversmith.  His  Indian  name,  however,  is  Ho-no-we-na-to, 
keeper  of  the  records,  which  title  he  bears  in  accordance  with  the 
laws  of  the  Iroquois,  which  makes  the  sachemships  descend  from 
father  to  son,  like  the  titles  of  nobility  amongst  the  whites.  Ho- 
no-we-na-to  is  a  respectable  looking,  grey-haired  man,  introduced 
to  me  by  my  friend  Dr.  Wilson.  In  the  course  of  our  interview 
he  sang  a  war-song  for  me. 

STANZA    V. 

"  The  Mohawk,  oldest  brother,  keeping 

Watch  the  Long  House's  east  porch  o'er." 

The  Mohawks  were  considered,  according  to  Cusick  and  School- 
craft,  as  the  oldest  brothers,  and  were  appointed  to  keep  a  watch 


316  NOTES. 

towards  the  sunrise.  They  were  called  by  the  rest  of  the  Confed 
eracy,  with  reference  to  their  locality,  Do-de-o-gah,"  meaning 
"  Message-bearers." 

"  The  fierce,  wild  Seneca,  unsleeping, 

Making  his  breast  the  Western  Door. 

The  Senecas,  according  to  Dr.  Wilson,  are  not  the  Door-keepers 
of  the  Long  House,  but  the  Door  itself.  They  were  called  "  IS wan- 
ne-ho-ont,"  meaning  "  the  door  on  the  hinge."  A  single  Seneca 
was  called  "  Jfo-ne-ho-ont." 

STANZA    VI. 

"  Of  the  eight  Totems,  one  each  breast 
Displayed  in  blue  tatoo  impressed." 

The  Confederacy  was  subdivided  into  eight  distinct  clans  or  fa 
milies,  without  reference  to  the  five  tribal  distinctions.  These 
subdivisions  were  distinguished  by  eight  totems,  viz.  the  Tortoise, 
Bear,  Wolf,  Crane,  Snipe,  Deer,  Beaver,  and  Hawk,  of  which  the 
first  three,  as  before  observed,  (see  Stanza  ii.,  Canto  ii.,)  were  the 
highest  in  rank.  These  totems  were  tattooed,  in  addition  to  their 
individual  ones,  upon  the  naked  skin ;  generally  upon  the  breast. 

"  While  frequently  was  seen  the  mark 

Of  the  HO-NONT-KOH  next  the  other, 
Which  none  decyphered  but  a  brother  ; 
Order  mysterious,  secret,  dark  !" 

The  Ho-nont-koh;  or  secret  order  of  the  Iroquois.  This  was  an 
order  answering  to  our  Masonic  Institution.  It  was  secret,  the 
members  bound  by  the  closest  ties.  Its  objects  have  never  trans 
pired.  Their  sign,  according  to  Dr.  Wilson,  was  a  stripe  tatooed 
upon  the  skin. 

STANZA    VIII. 

"  Was  the  League's  coat  of  arms  displayed." 
The  coat  of  arms  described  in  this  stanza  was  given  me  by  my 


NOTES.  317 

friend,  Ely  S.  Parker,  a  young  Seneca  of  great  intelligence  and 
talent. 

STANZA  x. 
"  Upon  his  breast  the  totem  of  the  BEAR." 

The  Atotarho  of  the  Confederacy  belonged  to  the  clan  of  the 
Bear. 

STANZA   XI. 

"  Till  the  first  ring  of  braves  was  springing 
Wildly  around,  all  wildly  singing." 

This  was  the  "  \Vas-sas-sa-o-nah,"  or  "Osage  wa>dance;" 
so  called  from  its  having  been  borrowed  by  the  Iroquois  from  the 
Osage  nation.  It  is  more  expressive  than  their  own  war  dance. 

STANZA  XVI. 

"  And  Braves  whose  deeds  amidst  their  enemies 
Were  traced  in  crimson  on  the  annal-trees." 

The  Iroquois  represent  on  trees  peeled  of  their  bark,  in  red 
colors,  their  expeditions,  the  deeds  of  their  warriors,  the  scalps 
taken,  &c.  "  These  trees,"  says  Golden,  "  are  the  annals  of  the 
Five  Nations.  I  have  seen  many  of  them,  and  by  them  and  their 
war-songs  they  preserve  the  history  of  their  achievements. 

"  Some 
Striking  the  war-post." 

Striking  the  war-post  means  that  those  doing  so  are  fitted  to  be 
warriors. 

STANZA   XX. 
"  How  often  has  the  Great  White  Bird 

Seen  us  returning  from  our  path 
Loaded  with  scalps,  and,  joyful,  heard 
The  songs  that  told  our  warrior  wrath  !" 

This  is  the  Bird  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  is  several  times  alluded 


318  NOTES. 

to  in  the  poem.  It  takes  note  of  the  Iroquois  warriors  returning 
from  the  war-wath  with  scalps,  and  bears  their  names  to  Ha-wen- 
ne-yo,  the  name  of  the  Great  Spirit  of  the  Iroquois. 

STANZA  XXIII. 

"  From  Hah-rah's  drift-wood  stream,  to  where 
The  Pequods  on  the  salt  waves  sail." 

"  Hah-rah,"  is  the  Mohawk  name  for  Schoharie  Creek,  meaning 
"drift-wood,"  from  the  quantities  of  floating  trees  and  branches 
that  were  in  it. 

The  Mohawks  extended  their  conquests  to  the  sea-side  in  an 
easterly  direction,  overcoming  the  Pequods,  who  were  the  largest 
and  most  formidable  of  the  tribes  in  that  direction. 

STANZA  XXIV. 

"  Last,  On-na-dah-gahs  !  always  true  ! 
Proud  people  of  the  hills  !" 

The  Onondagas  were  called  among  the  Confederacy,  "  the  peo 
ple  of  the  hills,"  the  word  "On-on-dah-gah,"  meaning  literally  in 
Iroquois,  "  on  the  hill." 

"  Oft  has  De-kan-e-so-ra's  voice 
Of  music  made  your  souls  rejoice ; 
If  from  Sken-ec-ta-da  his  speech." 

De-kan-e-so-ra  was  an  Onondaga  Sachem,  living  at  the  period  of 
our  tale,  and  was  very  celebrated  as  an  orator.  Golden  frequently 
mentions  him,  and  said  that  "  he  resembled  much  the  bust  of  Ci 
cero."  He  generally  represented  the  Onondagas  at  the  conventions 
at  Albany,  between  the  Iroquois  and  the  English,  and  was  very 
frequently  there.  "  Sken-ec-ta-da"  was  the  Iroquois  name  for 
Albany. 

"  Heart  of  the  League." 
The  Onondaga  Canton  was  the  central  one  of  the  Confederacy . 


MOTES.  319 


STANZA   XXXIV. 

"  Lite  the  blind  rattlesnake,  \vill  ye 
With  your  sharp  fangs  your  own  flesh  tear  !" 

The  rattlesnake,  at  a  certain  period  of  the  year,  becomes  blind. 
It  is  then  more  ferocious  than  ever ;  and,  if  attacked,  in  rage  at 
not  being  able  to  see  its  enemy,  it  will  strike  its  fangs  into  its  own 
flesh. 

STANZA  XXXV. 

"  The  combat  also  had  renewed 

Suspicion  of  the  Ho-nont-koh  sway." 

The  order  of  the  Ho-nont-koh  was  always  regarded  with  suspi 
cion  by  those  of  the  Iroquois  who  were  not  members  of  it.  To 
this  day  some  of  them  assert  it  was  instituted  for  wicked  purposes. 

STANZA  XXXVII. 

"  From  yon  tall  pine  the  feeblest  eye 
Can  view  the  waters  of  the  Lake 
Where  the  three  Wise  ones  formed  the  Tie." 

Onondaga  Lake,  from  which  the  chief  village  of  the  Onondagas 
was  situated  only  some  five  or  six  miles,  was  the  spot  where  the 
League  was  formed  under  the  direction  and  superintendence  of 
Hah-yoh-wont-hah,  Atotarho,  and  To-gan-a-we-tah. 

"  Whose  records  ye  at  feasts  have  heard 
Ho-no-we-na-to  oft  repeat." 

The  only  records  of  events  which  the  Iroquois,  as  a  people, 
possess,  are  the  records  of  that,  by  far  the  most  important  epoch  of 
their  history,  the  formation  of  their  Confederacy.  A  Sachem  of 
the  Onondagas  was  appointed  to  keep  them,  called  Ho-no-we-na-to 
(meaning  literally  ic  Keeper  of  the  Records,")  and  at  Feasts,  and 
other  important  assemblages  either  of  the  Nation  or  whole  League, 


320  NOTES. 

he  was  accustomed  to  repeat  them  for  the  information  of  his  hear 
ers,  and  to  instil  in  them  love  and  veneration  for  the  Confederacy 
itself  and  the  objects  of  it.  ^ 

"  And  from  stern  Yon-non-de-yoh  fly 

As  if  he  was  the  O-yal-kher  black 

Coming  on  his  devouring  track. 

No  !  when  he  comes,  ye'll  be,  oh  Braves  ! 

Like  that  bold  creature  from  the  waves, 

That  rose  and  made  the  enemy, 

Fierce  as  he  was,  back,  bleeding,  flee." 

"  Rumors  began  to  be  rife  of  the  appearance  of  an  extraordinary 
and  ferocious  animal  in  various  places,  under  the  name  of  the 
great  O-yal-kher,  or  Mammoth  Bear.  One  morning  while  a  party 
of  hunters  were  in  their  camp,  near  the  banks  of  a  lake  in  the 
Oneida  country,  they  were  alarmed  by  a  great  tumult  breaking  out 
from  the  lake.  Going  to  see  the  cause  of  this  extraordinary  noise, 
they  saw  the  monster  on  the  bank  rolling  down  stones  and  logs 
into  the  water,  and  exhibiting  the  utmost  signs  of  rage.  Another 
great  animal,  of  the  cat  kind,  with  great  paws,  came  out  of  the  wa 
ter  and  seized  the  bear.  A  dreadful  fight  ensued  ;  and  in  the  end, 
the  bear  was  worsted,  and  retired,  horribly  lamed." — SchoolcrafVs 
Notes  on  the  Iroquois. 


STANZA    XXIX. 

"  Braves  !  hear  again  the  words  of  dread, 
By  bright  To-gan-a-we-tah  said, 
A  hundred  hundred  moons  ago  !" 

To-gan-a-we-tah  was  regarded  by  the  Iroquois  as  a  preternatural 
being;  he  is  described  as  a  young  man  of  a  remarkably  beauti 
ful  person,  so  beautiful  that  Hah-wen-ne-yo  himself  might  envy 
him, — very  good  and  very  wise.  He  was,  as  before  stated,  one  of 
the  three  makers  of  the  League,  and  appeared  suddenly  amidst  the 


NOTES.  321 

people,  just  before  the  agitation  of  the  subject,  no  one  knowing 
whence  he  came.  After  the  formation  of  the  Confederacy,  he  ut 
tered  the  following  extraordinary  prophecy.  Said  he, — "  When 
the  White  Throats  shall  come,  then,  if  ye  are  divided,  you  will 
pull  down  the  Long  House,  cut  down  the  Tree  of  Peace,  and  put 
out  the  Council  Fire." 

These  words  (given  to  me  by  Dr.  Wilson,  an  Iroquois  Chief,  as 
before  stated,  as  the  literal  prophecy)  made  a  deep  and  lasting  im 
pression  upon  the  minds  of  all  who  heard  them.  To-gan-a-we- 
tah,  as  soon  as  he  had  uttered  the  prophecy,  disappeared  as  sud 
denly  as  he  appeared,  and  was  seen  no  more,  but  his  prophecy  was 
remembered. 

The  Iroquois  had  never  heard  of  the  existence  of  the  Whites, 
and  could  not  therefore  understand  what  the  term  "  White  Throats" 
meant.  They  kept  looking  out,  however,  from  that  time,  during 
generations,  for  the  appearance  of  the  objects  described  in  the  say 
ing,  and  when  the  white  men  came,  they  discovered  at  last  the 
meaning  of  the  words.  How  the  prophecy  has  been  fulfilled,  is 
now  a  matter  of  history. 

STANZA    XLV. 

"  >T would  come  like  that  swift  bird  of  snow, 
By  the  Great  Spirit  sent  to  say, 
To  Hah-yah-wont-hah,  '  Come  away  !'  " 

(See  note  to  Stanza  xliv.,  Canto  ii.)  This  bird  was  supposed 
by  the  Iroquois  to  have  been  sent  by  Hah-wen-ne-yo  to  tell  Hah- 
yoh-wont-hah  that  his  mission  being  accomplished,  he  must  re 
turn  to  the  happy  hunting-grounds. 

"  And  waiting  thy  lov'd  presence  there 
The  unfailing  strawberry  will  prepare." 

The  Iroquois  believe  that  when  they  reach  the  happy  hunting 


322  NOTES. 

grounds,  the  Great  Spirit  will  provide  for  them  the  most  delicious 
fruits  known  to  their  wroods,  chief  of  which  will  be  the  straw 
berry.  One  large  berry  of  the  latter  will  be  placed  before  each, 
divided  into  four  parts  which,  as  fast  as  they  are  consumed,  will 
be  successively  renewed,  thus  making  one  unfailing  and  eternal 
strawberry  for  the  recipient's  use. 

"  thy  feet  by  day 
Be  like  the  tireless  moose's  way  ;" 

La  Hontan  relates  that  the  Indians  told  him  "  the  moose  could 
trot  three  days  and  nights  without  intermission." 

STANZA     XLVII. 

"  One  pearly  cloud  was  melting  there 

Like  Hah-yoh-wont-hah's  white  canoe, 
When  up,  up  through  the  summer  air, 

He  vanished  from  the  people's  view 
Amidst  the  sky's  triumphal  strain, 
Its  welcome  to  his  home  again." 

The  traditions  of  the  Iroquois  concerning  the  three  framers  of 
the  League  are  exceedingly  interesting  and  romantic.  After  the 
accomplishment  of  the  Confederacy  To-gan-a-we-tah,  as  before 
remarked,  on  the  delivery  of  his  extraordinary  prophecy,  suddenly 
disappeared,  and  was  supposed  to  have  returned  to  the  heavens, 
whilst  Hah-yoh-wont-hah  was  seen  by  the  assembled  multitude  to 
ascend  amidst  bursts  of  the  sweetest  melody,  in  a  snow-white  ca 
noe  which  had  suddenly  shot  down  from  the  sky,  rising  higher  and 
higher,  until  he  melted  away  in  the  upper  distance.  Atotarho 
alone  remained  to  place  himself  at  the  head  of  the  Confederacy, 
and  leave  his  name  and  authority  to  a  long  line  of  successors. 


NOTES.  323 


CANTO   EIGHTH. 

STANZA    III. 

"  Upon  their  creaking  wheels  the  cannon  rolled, 
Jolting  o'er  roots,  or  sinking  in  the  mould ; 
In  a  carved  chair  behind,  amidst  a  throng 
Of  nobles  Frontenac  was  borne  along." 

u  The  Count  de  Frontenac  was  carried  in  a  chair  directly  after 
the  artillery."— Golden. 

"  Still  on  they  struggled,  ranks  and  files  were  lost, 
And  as  chance  willed  it,  strode  the  motley  host." 

"It  was  impossible  to  keep  order  in  passing  through  thick 
woods,  and  in  passing  brooks." — Golden. 

STANZA    IV. 

"  That  startled  deer  !  how  fiercely  doth  he  beat 
With  his  black  hoofs  the  earth— hark,  hark,  how  shrill 
His  whistle  ! 

The  American  deer,  when  suddenly  startled,  stamps  with  his 
fore-feet  violently,  and  gives  birth  to  a  shrill,  whistling  noise. 

STANZA  XII. 

"  Slow  sauntering  onward  went  a  musketeer, 
His  huge  piece  slung  within  his  bandoleer  f 

The  bandoleer  was  a  strap  attached  to  the  person,  and  used  to 
support  the  weight  of  the  ponderous  musket  of  those  days.  This 
name  was  also  given  to  a  strap  slung  around  the  shoulder  contain 
ing  charges  of  ammunition. 


324  NOTES. 

CANTO  NINTH. 

STANZA   XVIII. 

*'  And  in  the  bright  hunting  grounds  waiting  him,  he 
Was  scenting  the  feast  of  the  strawberry." 

When  an  Iroquois  is  dying  with  a  calm  and  tranquil  counte 
nance;  those  around  him  say,  "  he  is  scenting  the  strawberry  of  the 
Great  Spirit !" 


N.  B.— On  page  89,  13th  line  from  top,  read  "  dew-spangled"  for  "  dew-bespan 
gled." 


324  NOTES. 

CANTO  NINTH. 

STANZA   XVIII. 

"  And  in  the  bright  hunting  grounds  waiting  him,  he 
Was  scenting  the  feast  of  the  strawberry." 

When  an  Iroquois  is  dying  with  a  calm  and  tranquil  counte 
nance,  those  around  him  say,  "  he  is  scenting  the  strawberry  of  the 
Great  Spirit !" 


ERRATA. 


dropped"  read  "  drooped,"  page  193. 
ely,"  read   "  motley,"  page  aV. 
ing"  read  "seaming,"  page  244. 


N.  B.— On  page  89,  13th  line  from  top,  read  "  dew-spangled"  for  "  dew-bespan 
gled." 


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